


The Offer of Just One More...

by IShouldBe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Children, F/M, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2018-08-11 15:17:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 39,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7897702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IShouldBe/pseuds/IShouldBe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The feeling in her chest twisted. Tightened.</p><p>Ronald Weasley didn't want children.</p><p>SS/HG HEA...Always :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

* * *

Yes, so, erm...

I should be writing something else...as I only have till next Monday to get the finished story in. I have 33k of rambling mess to edit and 10k of new words write. So here I am with a first chapter I put up LJ earlier this month.

I had lots of good intentions of having more written before putting it up here on FFN/A03 etc. But I'm in full wip-avoidance mode. So here it is.

I'm such a _bad_ author...

* * *

Hermione stood before the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office. Her fingers pressed into her palms and she winced at the damp trace of sweat she found there. She murmured a spell and dried her skin. Merlin, it wasn't as if she wasn't _expected_.

She'd had a return owl to arrange the meeting. It even had a set agenda. And Hagrid had been waiting for her at the gates to let her in. _And_ she'd whipped out a patronus to alert the Headmaster that she was, in fact, on her way…

No surprises. No shocks. Just her digging out the courage to ask Severus Snape for an apprenticeship. It wasn't even as if she were asking _him_ to mentor her. No, she wanted to study Arithmancy…and had been assured my a number of friends that Septima Vector was willing to chew off her own arm to get her claws into Hermione Granger, war hero, bookworm and all-round swot.

Yet still, Hermione paused. She pressed her hand to the stone sentinel's curved chest, finding it smooth and strangely warm.

It was a little over six weeks since Voldemort had fallen and in that acre of time she'd not set eyes on Severus Snape. Her last memory was of him dying. Horribly. A brief agonising moment of blood and death, of yet another betrayal by yet another master, a vision that gave her nightmares above and beyond all the horrors she'd witnessed in the war.

But he was alive. Somehow. And waiting for her in his tower office.

She drew in a breath and murmured, "Asphodel."

The stone guardian rolled away to reveal the turn of steps leading up. She half-jumped on the bottom stair and, biting her lip, she rode up to his office. And another barrier in the form of a thick door.

Hermione growled at herself. What was she scared of? The image hit of him dying…again. It was stupid and irrational. He was hardly going to be covered in blood… Her guilt. It was her guilt at leaving him alone. The pain of it still formed a fist in her chest. One that didn't want to loosen its grip on her heart.

Closing her eyes, she rapped on the door. Her constricted heart thudded.

"Come in, Miss Granger."

He sounded the same, for all that a snake had taken out his throat. The beauty of his voice was intact… A splinter of her guilt fell away. She pushed the door open and willed herself forward.

Snape sat behind his great desk, tucked beyond the stepped arches. Summer light gilded the back of his chair and it threw his face into shadow. The door shut behind her. Her breath caught. Merlin, she was nervous.

"Don't dawdle."

"No, Sir." And the rote response broke a smile from her. He still had the talent to force obedience.

Painted eyes from the numerous former headteachers followed her as she took the few steps to the solid, dark block of his desk. A chair had been conjured. Something with padding and one that looked almost…comfortable. Very unSnape-like.

"Sit." He pointed a long, pale hand to the chair and his pitch black eyes narrowed on her. She couldn't hold his gaze. "I won't bite, Miss Granger."

She dropped into the chair, her fingers digging into her little bag. His scars. A raw and painful red, they spiked out of the starched, white collar of his shirt. "No, Sir."

"Look at me."

Hermione gasped, her hand snatching to her mouth and digging hard into her jaw. Tears burned and her throat tightened. She wanted to run. Escape. Gods, those words had haunted her…

Snape swore under his breath. "I apologise, Miss Granger."

Her head snapped up. Words burst form her, hot and pressured. "You have nothing to apologise for, sir. _Nothing!_ We… I _left_ you." Her hand was at her mouth again, pressed hard to her bloodless lips fighting to deny the fall of tears. "I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry, Sir. I should've—"

"It was another life." He asked for tea, and a full service appeared on his clear desk, thick with little cakes of every description. He sighed. "I am the Headmaster. You are a very promising student, who will soon graduate and wishes to ask for an apprenticeship. That is who we are now. In a sane world, it is who we should always have been."

Hermione blinked at the easy calm to his tone. Her obvious disbelief was met with the hint of smile from the wizard. He poured a tea and lifted an eyebrow.

"Just milk, please."

"And before you ask, Miss Granger, no I am not on some mood-altering potion."

Hermione snorted a laugh and almost spilt her tea. "I didn't like to ask, Sir."

His eyes gleamed, sliding her a dark, amused glance for her impertinence. "Please help yourself to…whatever these are. The kitchen elves are united in the belief that I need fattening up." He glared at a mini eclaire. "They are trying to bludgeon me into submission with cake."

Hermione bit her lip, her throat tight and that need to cry sweeping over her again. But it was happy tears. This Severus Snape was still sour, but the edge of dank bitterness was gone. He was right. He was simply her Headmaster now. And the final tight bindings of guilt loosened and fell away.

"I have my full proposal, Sir." She conjured a coaster and placed her cup on it. "A copy for you and Professor Vector."

Hermione handed across the two tightly-bound-but-still-fat scrolls.

The Headmaster frowned at them. "All this in only a few weeks, Miss Granger?"

"Longer." Heat warmed her cheeks. "It's an idea I toyed with at the beginning of my Sixth Year. And last year, well, it took my mind off…" She waved a finger to her chest and throat. But she had no clue if Phineas had shared with Snape anything of the time in that gods-forsaken tent. She lifted her chin. "We took turns in wearing the locket. It bled into your thoughts…"

She shivered and the sour, creeping memory of Ron's desertion flickered through her mind. She shoved it down. He was…better. Changed. More thoughtful. She clung to those new facts.

She gave the Headmaster what was no doubt a lame smile. "It helped."

Snape simply nodded and put the scrolls to one side. Hermione blinked. Was he not going to discuss them? That had been the main focus of their agenda.

"You listed one of your points, 'Other Business'. I would prefer to clear that away before I call in Septima to discuss your…"

He tapped a long finger to the dangerously thick scroll. Hermione blushed. Yes, she may have gone a little far…

"Your… _opus_."

She snorted and pressed her hand to her face. She hadn't expected to find the Headmaster so funny. She was certain some of it was her enjoying the fact that he was _alive_ to be so biting. "Yes, Sir—"

"Severus."

Hermione blinked and stared at him. His endless eyes were dark and calm. "Sir?"

"I have every confidence that we will be colleagues come the New Year." He frowned at the roll of parchment. "We may even still _be_ in this office at that time."

She snorted again and her face bloomed with heat. Where were all these pig noises coming from? The traitorous thought rose… _Ron_.

"And as such, I will allow you to grow…accustomed to using my given name." His brows drew together, his eyes growing —impossibly— darker. "In private."

She jerked a nod. "Understood…Severus." The name tasted…odd to her lips and tongue. Had she ever spoken it out loud before? She picked up her tea and took a fortifying sip. "Other Business is my parents."

Severus—it was as alien in her mind as it was to her mouth—sat back in his chair and sipped his tea. "They are in Australia."

"Yes…yes." Hermione stumbled over her words. Did he know all of it?

"You were right to protect them, Miss Granger. Riddle was most…vexed when Yaxley found them gone." The hint of a dark smile pulled at his mouth and a hot shiver ran down her spine. For all his honour and new calm, Severus Snape was _still_ a dark wizard. " _Most_ vexed."

"The memory charm I used, I have its counter, but…"

"You are unsure. Fearful that in trying to restore what you have suppressed, you could harm them?"

"Yes, sir… _Severus_ …"

The relief at his understanding came out in a rush. Ron had simply declared her worries silly. _You're you, Mione. Of course you got it right. They'll be fine._ His confidence was…nice. But not helpful. She'd wanted to discuss, thrash out what she had done and how the counter-charm could work or fail or fail _horribly_. Ron didn't have that knowledge. Or patience. She needed an expert. And the Headmaster was it.

"I will need your copy of every book you read and detailed notes on each part of the spell and wand movements. Your thoughts and feelings at the time." His mouth twitched upwards. "I'm certain you can fill multiple feet of parchment." He put his cup down. "Do you know where they are in Australia?"

"No. I'm heading out at the end of the week…"

Her thoughts were whirling. He was going to help her—

"I will need all of the above before then. When they are found, contact me. I will arrange a portkey and come out to meet you."

Her mouth fell open. "Meet…?"

"I am an expert in charms and very probably the greatest legilimens still living." His mouth twitched upwards in one of those strange new smiles. "Who better?"

"But… Your position here. The castle, after the Battle…" She winced, not wanting to drag either of them back to that dark time. "I mean…"

"Hogwarts has almost completed its repairs. This is a magical castle, Miss Granger. Did you not notice?"

"Hermione." She blurted out her name. "If you're giving me back my parents, it's Hermione."

" _Hermione_."

Her breath caught in her chest. Her name spoken for the first time with _that_ voice. Something flickered on the edge of her emotions. But she didn't examine it. Not at all. Because it would be wrong to—

She was not thinking about it!

Hermione worked a smile across her mouth. She would question his motives later. No, not motives, that was unfair. He was offering to help. Help when _no one_ else could. But…she would still ask him why. _Later_. Now, she wanted to push them back to their agenda.

She looked to the pile of little cakes. "Should we eat all of these before Professor Vector gets here?"

Severus smirked at her, his dark eyes gleaming. "We could try…"

* * *

Let me know what you think! :)


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

Wow, thanks for all the reviews, kudos and bookmarking! *grin*

I snuck this in before I have to slash, hack and burn my way through my o-fic. :)

* * *

"Are you ready?"

Severus' calm voice eased the tight knot of nerves bundled in her stomach and she pushed out a hot breath. She rubbed her fingers together, the tips cold. They stood on a corner of a suburban street in North Sydney. It was well before seven and the sun hadn't yet risen, though strange birdcalls cut through the silence. Severus had left the warmth of a Scottish evening behind and she'd advised him to wrap up, aware now that something in that hateful venom had made him susceptible to the cold.

He was a shadow at her side and it brought her a strange comfort for him to be with her. "I'm ready," she murmured.

Her lips pinched together. "They live above the premises. There's a door off the drive. They open at eight on a weekday, but at the weekend I've seen them pottering around at this time."

He knew all this. For seven weeks, she had faithfully reported back the minutiae of her parents' lives to Severus Snape. Sometimes three or four times in a week. Every exact detail of how they ran Wilkins Family Day Care from a leafy, sweet sprawl of a house opposite a primary school, and their lives beyond it.

When Hermione had first found them —only her third day in Sydney— she'd stopped on the pavement, her hand over her mouth and willed herself not to cry.

Her mother, looking tanned and happy, had a wildly giggling toddler on her hip and was chatting with the baby's mother. Hermione had almost turned back. Her mother had always wanted more children, always, like an ache under her heart, and now she had a whole rambling tribe of them from eight in the morning until five, every weekday.

Hermione had scrawled a note to Severus, explaining her mother's longed for wish, and how could she take that away, what right did she have and spelling away the stains of her tears on the letter, desperate for his advice.

He'd warned that his research into her memory charms showed a high chance of the magic failing within five years. The disaster of that moment could be stopped by their planned intervention.

And because of his advice, six weeks later, they were crossing the silent, empty road to give the Wilkins back their former lives. Her heart drummed and she ached to hold his hand, to have some reassurance.

They stopped at a plain door and Hermione stilled. A large hand on her shoulder forced her eyes to close. The urge to thread her fingers through his, to deepen the contact pulsed in her belly. It was her dependence on him these past weeks, that was all. His faithful and detailed correspondence —as frequent as her own— compared to Ron's single missive of eight lines, seven of which were about quidditch—

"It will be fine, Hermione."

She twitched a smile and pushed down her silly crush. In a few weeks, he would be her headmaster again. After Christmas, he would be her employer. And…and she was on a promise with Ron. That had been his eighth line, after all.

She pressed the bell. Severus' wand slipped into his hand, tucked against his thigh like a shadow. The clatter of feet on stairs and a muffled, female, "Well, if I knew who it was, I wouldn't say 'Oh, I wonder who that is?', would I? _Honestly_!"

Hermione smirked. The memories may have twisted, but her mother was still the same.

The door swung open to a smaller, more tanned, older version of herself. Hermione's eyes burned at the familiar wild profusion of morning curls. A herculean effort she faced every morning herself.

"Hello, yes? Our core hours are from eight till five, Monday to Friday. Currently, we have no slots open. I can take your names and the name of your child for a waiting list. That does cost."

"Monica Wilkins?" Severus smooth voice practically purred her name and Hermione's mother blinked. There was an undercurrent of power there that pricked Hermione's skin.

"You're British?" Monica looked to Hermione. "You too?" She frowned. "You know, you look very familiar."

Hermione jerked a nod, unable yet to speak. Her heart was a drum and she had to breathe. Just simply breathe. What if the charm was already breaking?

But Monica looked back to Severus. "Yes, I'm her."

Severus murmured a spell and Monica turned on her heel, trotting back up the stairs. With a glance at Hermione, he followed her. She looked to the silent street, stepped into the shadowed porch and shut the door behind them.

The stairs fed into a bright sitting room, something well lived in, packed with books and an assortment of toys that had obviously migrated from downstairs. Monica flopped onto the red couch and was silent. The first stages of breaking the charm were at work in her mind.

Her father popped his head out of the kitchen. "Hello? Who are you? Monica? Monica…! What have you—"

"Wendell Wilkins?"

That same flare of power worked through Severus' voice and Hermione shivered. It was hardly fair that he was putting all of his energy into curing her parents. But she didn't have the necessary skill. It would've been a disaster…

"Yes."

The same murmured spell had her dad flopping down next to his wife. Severus let out a long breath and wiped a hand over his face. "It's begun. Now we wait."

"Sit." Hermione pressed a hand to his arm and urged him into an armchair. "I'll put the kettle on."

"Proper black tea." He stretched out his legs, a great length of shadow in the white-walled room.

Hermione bit back a smile. "A dash of milk, before not after."

"Anything else is an abomination."

His head fell back against the padding of the chair and he closed his eyes. Thick black lashes fanned against his sharp cheekbones and Hermione had to will herself to stop staring at him. It didn't help that he looked even better than he had in his office earlier in the summer. Which was insane when he'd just expended so much non-verbal energy. Her belly performed a little swoop and she cursed her crush. But, in Merlin's name, how powerful _was_ Severus Snape?

Hermione clamped her lips together before she began to mutter and headed into the narrow kitchen. Her father had already boiled the water and had mugs set out on the counter. So it was simply a case of pottering about in search of milk, tea and a spoon. "He'll have to suffer a lack of teapot."

"I heard that!"

Hermione stilled, a bloom of mortification filling her chest. It was a very good thing she'd kept her mutterings to herself if her murmur over fifteen feet away was the range of his hearing. "And I thought the bat rumours were false…"

Severus' soft laughter warmed through her.

That had been another aspect of their copious letter swap. A dry humour that had held her spirits up in her pokey little service flat above an apothecary shop. The scents from below –of spices and herbs and sometimes something so acrid her eyes watered— brought him to her and she could almost hear his voice as she read through the sheaves.

A silly schoolgirl crush. She splashed milk and strained tea. One that she'd put behind her when she went home to Ron. She was simply…frustrated. Heat warmed her cheeks and she took a sip of her tea, to blame the redness on that. And well, that frustration would be well and truly solved the first weekend back at Hogwarts.

Hermione crossed the room and handed Severus his mug. She pulled over a chair from the small dining table tucked under the window. "How long will they be…like that?"

"The return to themselves will run surprisingly quickly." He looked at her over his mug and her heart squeezed. "That was your reason for choosing this particular charm, was it not?"

"It was. But the magical range needed..." Her lips twitched upwards and she took a quick sip of her tea to quell her sudden nerves. "I was ambitious."

His voice was a darkly velvet purr. "You, Miss Granger? Never."

Her face was beat red, she was sure of it. "Thank you again, Severus." She looked away from him to her parents. "For all of this."

"I must finally admit, I have ulterior motives."

The barest of smiles touched his lips and Hermione had to remember to breathe. It wasn't what she was thinking. It wasn't. He _couldn't_ have any interest in her. Not one jot.

"I haven't mentioned it before, the planets –as they say— had not yet aligned. Now they have. I want to offer—"

Her mother moaned, and Hermione's gaze snapped to her. Her heart was in her throat and for a moment, she cursed her mother's return. Guilt smacked into her. Trembling, she put her mug on the floor and fisted her hands at her breast. "What do we do?"

"This."

Severus set his own mug down, sat forward and power thrummed from him. His wand was in his hand, weaving out the intricate and familiar patterns she herself had memorised. A touch of smile quirked his mouth again. "Open your eyes, Gwendolyn Granger."

Her mother's eyes shot open. She stared. Her hand pressed to her mouth, before she murmured a disbelieving, "Hermione?" She frowned then, a sharp drawing together of her brows as her gaze darted over her daughter. "My god girl, your _hair_!" Her lips thinned and she huffed. "You've stopped using your conditioner, haven't you?"

The peal of laughter broke from Hermione, even as she cried.

Severus' warm hand –callused and long fingered— found one of hers and she knew in that moment, everything would be just fine.

* * *

Let me know what your think! :)


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

Oh lookee, I have a really important deadline, so this is just falling out of my fingers... *sigh*

This might be a little dark and a touch angsty. I can never tell. I blub at anything.

* * *

Severus sat back in his chair and lifted an eyebrow. "Perhaps, all things considered, you would rather be…dead?"

Her father, Edward, who had lurched to his feet, was in the middle of a rant about how Hermione had overstepped her rights in taking away their memories. Severus' words stopped him mid flow. He stared. Blinked. Sank back onto the sofa as if his strings had been cut. And gaped.

Severus tapped a long finger to his pursed lips. "You were marked for death. I was there when the order was given." His eyes narrowed. "I was a double agent, a spy for the Light in the Death Eater ranks. Your…painful death was a certainty."

Hermione's heart turned over and her knotted hands tightened, but Severus' calm expression didn't flicker. Merlin –in that moment— she envied him his control. Or the appearance of it. Her gut was roiling, guilt and anxiety a wild mix that made her feel nauseous.

His low, cool words continued. "Without your daughter's intervention, you would not be here, living a life you have _always_ wanted."

Her father's mouth opened and closed.

Severus' eyebrow rose again. "Is it not true that you have always wanted to be surrounded by children?"

Her mother drew in a long shaking breath and rubbed trembling hands together. "I have." She looked to her shell-shocked husband. "We _both_ have. After Hermione, that wish…" Gwendolyn shook her head and dark eyes fixed on her daughter. "Did you plant the idea of this place, too?"

A fist tightened in Hermione's chest and it was suddenly so very hard to breathe. Had they not wanted—?

Gwendolyn stretched out her hand and wrapped her warm fingers over her cold, knotted hands. A sob broke from Hermione. She couldn't stop it.

"Oh, my girl, I'm not blaming you. This past year has been a total joy. Everything I could want. _Everything_." She pressed her lips together, and sniffed. "Babies day in, day out." A half-laugh escaped her. "God, you know how much I love the smell of babies! But now…" She looked around the little sitting room, something dying in her eyes. "But this, this place as lovely as it is, isn't our home. _You_ are our home."

Severus sat forward and broke the heavy silence. "And to that effect, I have an offer to put to you." He looked to Hermione's still-speechless father. "To both of you."

Hermione blinked, an unexpected tear breaking free to run down her cheek. She'd forgotten all about his offer. And something curled and died in her heart that it wasn't something that _she_ could give him. He wanted her parents. Not her. Damn, her stupid crush was getting completely out of hand…

Gwendolyn blinked. "What could you give _us_? We're muggles."

Severus pulled a folded piece of parchment from the inner pocket of his jacket, murmured an enlargement spell and a heartbeat later a large folder sat on his palm. "I took the liberty of calling it Granger Hall."

Her mother held the folder in shaking hands before setting it on her knees. She opened it and her hand shot to her mouth. "A home…"

"…for abandoned squib children, from newborns to seventeen," Severus said. "When they are recognised as an adult in the wizarding world, there are mews cottages, set back from the main house that will be a half-way house for any squib that needs a safe place to stay."

Her parents leafed through the numerous papers, their eyes growing rounder and Hermione stared at him. "Severus…?"

"When you mentioned your parents' love for children the idea formed. Kingsley couldn't refuse me."

A hand squeezed around her heart and her throat tightened. Merlin, she wanted to throw herself at him. The work that had gone into that fat folder. The _time_. He'd done all this for them. For squibs _and_ her and her family. He was… _magnificent_. She shook her head. "He wouldn't dare."

Severus lifted his chin. "Squibs are still magical beings."

"Of course they are."

"Newborns? You know how early their magic forms?" Edward looked up from the dossier. "Hermione was eighteen months before she exploded her cousin."

Severus' brows rose. Dark eyes held her, sharp with amusement " _Exploded your cousin_?"

Hermione groaned and pressed her hands to her face. "I didn't explode him, Dad. It was a minor shock. A bit of singeing."

"You _singed_ your cousin?"

She glared at a Severus whose lips fought not to grin. "Shut up."

He looked back to her silently staring parents and the humour fell away from him. "There is a spell, quite dark, that will reveal a baby's magical core. Dark because the baby will almost certainly be abandoned if proven to be a squib."

Gwendolyn pressed a hand to her throat. "Just left…?"

A pulse jumped at his temple. Something quick, hardly seen. "The lucky ones find their way into St Mungo's –our wizarding hospital. Then into muggle care, fostered, adopted if they're fortunate. The others…"

He didn't go further, but Hermione was aware of at least one dark and foul potion that required the heart of a newborn squib. And that twitch. Hermione's breath caught and she was _very_ aware of Severus not looking at her. _Dear gods…_ Had he, somewhere in his dark past, been ordered to render a squib baby?

Gwendolyn looked at her husband and something silent and sure passed between them. "And now they would come to us?"

Severus nodded. " _Yes_."

There was a relief in that single word that forced Hermione to bite her lip.

"I have it confirmed by the Ministry of Magic, any child caught under that spell will find his or her way to you."

Gwendolyn smacked the folder closed. "You can stay for breakfast –would that be a late Scottish supper?— and we can discuss this further." She grinned at Severus. "We accept by the way." She looked around the sitting room again, but her expression was thoughtful, not lost and broken. "We'll need time to sell this place on. A lot of people rely on us."

Severus nodded. "Perfectly understandable."

"Hermione, come help me." Gwendolyn put out her hand to her daughter.

"Can I just have a moment, please?" Severus had stood, stiff and correct and Hermione's heart squeezed for him.

"Just one. Apparently, bacon doesn't cook itself." Her mother smirked at him. "I know! Shocking." And she dragged her husband off into the kitchen.

"I can see were you get your force of will, Hermione," he murmured, staring after her mother. He ran a hand over his hair, sank back into his seat and cast a discreet _muffliato_. For a moment he was silent, simply staring at has hands. "I want to explain."

Hermione pressed her lips together and nodded.

"I did not…I…" His fingers tunnelled though his hair. "Tom Riddle ordered a potion made. I will not say which one. But the ingredients were…provided. The child…was already…"

Hermione caught his hand and squeezed. Tears burned for him. "Severus…"

"A Death Eater's daughter. A squib." He let out a long breath. "Thank the gods that the potion did not require me to…desecrate her. Only to recognise her robbed life with my stirring hand to her chest." He closed his eyes. "I vowed in that moment that there would be no more like her. No more."

"You have upheld your vow, Severus. You have." Hermione wiped away the wetness to her cheeks. How many horrors had this wizard endured to bring about Voldemort's downfall? "My mother —as you've noticed— is a force of nature. She will be a bear with her cubs. Molly Weasley has _nothing_ on _my_ mother."

He snorted. "Terrifying indeed." He squeezed her hand and released her. "Thank you. I did not want you to think… I wanted you know my reasoning."

"You are a good man, Severus Snape."

"Perhaps." A bleak smile touched his mouth and he stared back at his hands. His right hand —his stirring hand— flexed. "The Whomping Willow agreed for her to be buried beside him. I could think of no fiercer guardian."

"Severus, stand up." Hermione was on her feet. "Stand up, because I need to hug you. Right now."

He blinked up at her. "Hermione, what…?"

"Not standing, all right, I'm short, you're tall." She stepped between his knees and wrapped her arms around him, pressing his face to her jumper. He tried to pull away, but she was quite firm. "Arms around me, Severus, I'm not letting you go."

He stilled and then his arms inched around her waist. Hermione pressed her cheek to the silky softness of his hair and breathed, simply breathed.

His muscles loosened under her touch and she pressed closer, shutting her eyes, drawing in his warm scent, something musky, like parchment, like old books, but with a fresher, greener accent…

Her heart was drumming, he could no doubt hear it, feel it pounding but this was right. To offer comfort in that moment. And to remember a nameless child.

* * *

"He's hugging her."

Edward's mouth thinned and his whole body tightened like an angry little bull terrier. Gwendolyn swatted him with a tea towel. " _She's_ hugging _him_." She snorted. "You saw her leap up and manhandle him into that hold. The poor man didn't know where to look."

"Well I can see _exactly_ where he's looking now."

Gwendolyn rolled her eyes. "He has his eyes shut. I think it's sweet."

"He's her teacher. Her headmaster. He's older than us!"

"Nonsense. He's in late thirties. You, my dear, are twenty years older than _him_. And how much older are you than me? _Hmm_?" Her husband glared at her. "Come away from the door. I'd prefer Hermione with him than that boy she was panting after. What was his name?"

"Ronald."

Gwendolyn pulled a face. " _Ronald_. That boy ate his own bodyweight in cake. And talked about quidditch non-stop. As if we knew or cared." She opened the fridge and peered inside. Enough bacon for four. Good. "You know, I think he has a tapeworm." She frowned and set out mushrooms and tomatoes on the counter. "If wizards can have that. Who knows what magical maladies they suffer?"

"They're still hugging…"

"Come _away_." She pushed him in front of the mushrooms. "Chop."

He grumbled under his breath, but still reached for the vegetable knife. He'd always chopped, diced and sliced with the surety of a surgeon. Which, she supposed, he was. They both were. It was strange, a career that had taken up so much of her life held little attraction now. Not after the last year…and the promise of more, of children they could care for around the clock. Theirs in all but name.

And the man –the wizard— her daughter was happily hugging had given them this gift.

"I like Severus' character. Clever. Assured. Compassionate. And honestly, Eddie, tell me, did you ever see Hermione with someone her own age?"

He sighed. "No… But _him_ …?"

"They'll make lovely babies."

Edward gaped at her. " _Babies_!"

Gwendolyn leaned back to peer through the gap in the door. "They've finished. Go. Chat with him. I'll occupy Hermione." She stared at the chopping board. "What have you done to this tomato? Call yourself a surgeon. Ha!"

"Babies…" The word was a disbelieving mutter under his breath as he left with the Granger Hall folder.

_Granger Hall_. Total, blissful madness…

"Why is dad talking to himself?"

Hermione stepped into the kitchen and offered a small smile. In the brighter light, she looked thinner but hugging her professor had put a nice pink into her cheeks.

Gwendolyn grinned and wrapped her arms around her daughter, hugging her hard until she squeaked. "My brilliant girl." She pulled back and looked over her. What _had_ she been using on her head? "Dear lord, I was right about your hair."

Hermione snorted. "I've been busy. But…" Her eyes dropped and Gwendolyn's heart tightened at her sudden uncertainty. "If I can, I'd like to help here? Stay with you until I have to head back to start my NEWTs?"

"Of course you can stay."

Hermione bit her lip and her eyes shone with tears, so Gwendolyn enveloped her in another breath-stealing hug. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me. But, you can tell me more about your Severus."

The pink in her cheeks deepened. "He's not _my_ Severus."

"And why not. He's older. Experienced." She leant in close. " _Great_ arse."

"Mum!"

Gwendolyn blinked. "I am, aren't I? Still…" She waggled her eyebrows and they both burst into laughter.

Hermione leant against the counter and looked through to the sitting room. Severus stood with Edward, the folder open on the dining table. Edward was wagging his tongue about something…

Did her daughter even realise how she was looking at that man? She was already more than half in love with this Severus Snape.

Hermione gave her a smile and Gwendolyn blinked. "I already have a boyfriend, Mum. You remember, Ronald? Red hair. Funny. A big, rambunctious family. I've always wanted him."

Hermione glanced back into the room, and Gwendolyn followed her gaze. Severus had stilled, his head tilted. Her voice was low, wistful. "We're…we're serious. I think he's the one."

Severus straightened, quick and sharp, a sudden hard tension gripping him, and Gwendolyn closed her eyes. A fist tightened around her heart. The poor man. Somehow, he'd heard her.

And her brilliant, darling —but so very silly daughter— was heading for complete disaster.

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Let me know what you think! :)


	4. Chapter 4

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This is a bit transitiony, but I realised I need this moment before the next part of the story. So here it is.

And thanks for all of your reviews and kudos this week! It got me through the nightmare of my wip. I was able to send a proposal tonight, so I now have a few weeks to finish and polish. Though I have another similar deadline in 3 weeks... *craziness*

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Hermione and her mother portkeyed into the secured courtyard of Granger Hall. Gwendolyn grabbed her arm, holding her still as wards rippled, recognising both of them. This after all, would be Hermione's home until she struck out on her own.

Gwendolyn sighed, staring around at the pale stoned range rising in a rush of slated roofs and ornate chimneys around them. "Isn't it simply beautiful?"

August sunlight threw stark shadows over a rambling Jacobian mansion, leaded glass windows shining and opened to the air. Wisteria climbed and clung where it could, a bust of green and flowers as a warm and delicious silence hung over the courtyard.

A bubble of happiness rose in Hermione's chest. Oh, that silence would change with the shouts and squabble of so many children. For all of Granger Hall's grandeur –and it was _impossibly_ grand— there was a feeling of homeiness. Of it being _ready_ to be a home.

"Finally, welcome!" Her dad strode out of the great, arched doorway, a little house elf trotting in his wake. "The sun's shining for you." He squinted into the bright blue sky. "It was a miserable morning."

He looked down to the little creature at his thigh, dressed in a neat, blue pillowcase with the embroidered 'Granger Hall' across his chest. "I'm sorry. This is Pil. Pil, this is my wife, Gwendolyn and my daughter, Hermione. They've been making the final move from our business in Australia. Now it's all done."

The elf bobbed his head, his bright, bulging eyes fixing on Hermione for a second too long.

"Pil is the first in a band of ten house elves assigned to the Hall."

Pil gave a sharp nod, his ears flapping. "We will rescue the wizard-born." He clasped his hands together and his grin was huge, even as tears formed in his huge eyes. "The great Headmaster, The Snape, has given us the chance to serve our lost babies."

Hermione blinked. "Lost babies?"

"Bad wizards are chasing away their babies. Or worse." He stamped his foot and magic crackled. It's not right."

Her dad patted the elf's narrow shoulder, seemingly unconcerned at the flare of power. "It's not. And all of us are here to set that right." He smiled at her mother, and there was something there, a wistfulness, a quiet joy that formed a lump in Hermione's throat. "In fact, Pil brought in our first baby."

Gwendolyn pressed her fingers to her mouth. "Oh he did?" She grinned at Pil. "Well done you!"

The little elf beamed at the praise.

Her mother let out a slow breath and pushed her hands over her wild hair. "I mean, it's a horrible circumstance, but if they performed _that_ spell, then he…she—?"

"It's a little girl. Almost four weeks old."

" _She_ will have a much better home, a much better life with us."

"If you can pry her away from Severus."

Hermione's belly swooped. And she fought back the stupid question of, "Severus is here?". It had been almost a month since he'd restored her parents' memories and in that time, the letters had died away. There was the excuse that she no longer had to report the minutiae of her parents' lives or need his support in working out how to approach them. But she'd thought, that perhaps he'd enjoyed writing to her…

It seemed she was wrong. They had met twice since then as he evaluated the people who would take over the Family Day Care business and again as he portkeyed her father to the Hall for the first time. He had been unfailingly polite…and she'd hated it.

Had she read their friendship completely wrong? She'd hoped to have that, even if she could never…

Hermione cut out those thoughts. Her duty was to Ron. She would see him the next day at King's Cross. She had to be practical. Her…crush on Severus was fleeting.

The thoughts churned and she followed her striding mother into the entrance hall. It was a long room, pattern-tiled and with cream plastered walls. Light flooded down the great turns of the wide staircase and caught on the dark wizard standing with a tiny bundle nestled in his arms. Even with his black hair swept forward, she could discern a softness to his features that she'd never before seen, as if a weight had been lifted from him. He looked so…natural. And it burned tears in her eyes.

"Say hello to Severus. I have to…" And Gwendolyn fairly shoved her father through an archway, disappearing into the deep shadows of the room beyond. Pil looked to her and to her escaping parents, squeaked and vanished.

Hermione winced. Her mother had dropped unsubtle hints about pursuing Severus, but she didn't know the wizard's history. That his heart was long gone. Lost to a long dead witch. Friendship was all he would accept. And Hermione did want that back.

She drew in her courage and closed the distance between them. "The Hall's first resident."

"Yes." The word was soft and quiet, but his dark eyes didn't look away from the baby in his arms.

Her heart squeezed. Her father had had the same look only moments before. She'd always placed the love of children on her mother, but her father was equally caught in that love. Had obviously ached for a large family as much as she had. This place was a gift for them.

Would…would Ron be the same way with his child in his arms? Standing there with Severus Snape, the thought felt almost…traitorous. Wrong.

"May I hold her?"

Severus looked up then. Something flickered through his eyes, too quick to catch, but then his hideous politeness returned. "Of course."

She held her breath at the warm brush of his hands against hers as he eased the baby into her arms…and she looked down into eyes as black as Severus' own. An ache caught her. Swift and hard. A deep desire for one of these beautiful little creatures.

"Hope," Severus murmured as he stroked his thumb over her tiny knuckles. "Her name is Hope."

Hermione thought she caught a smile, but it had vanished when she looked up at him. His sudden distance hurt. But, in a way, she needed it. Her future was with Ron and she so wanted a gaggle of children, something he was sure to want too. Though none of her children would have the brilliant, black eyes that matched Hope…and Severus.

"Pil snatched her away as the magic revealed her fate." He pushed aside the blanket and the word "squib" scored down her tiny chest. "Another horror from the spell."

Hermione drew in a calming breath, fighting hard not to hand over Hope, find Pil and demand he take her to see these… _wizards_.

She knew how Severus saw this little girl, now. Hope was the baby he had made the vow over. No longer guarded by the Whomping Willow, she was here now. Safe. And with a secure and loving future. Hermione looked away, her heart in her throat. She wanted to say something…but couldn't. They were not as they were even a few weeks before.

Severus eased her blanket back and stroked Hope's cheek. "There is no pain now. And a cream will lessen her scarring."

She had to say something. Anything. "This is a wonderful thing you're doing, Severus."

"Not I. Your parents. They have a difficult task ahead of them." He reclaimed the baby and tucked the soft blankets around her little body. Hope reached up a hand and grabbed his nose, burbling bubbles at him and a disbelieving smile lifted his lips. "What are you about, young lady?"

His voice was soft and smooth, a gentle rumble and Hope babbled a long and detailed reply.

Hermione's thoughts were spinning. Who ever in their lives had witnessed such a thing? And it broke a wide smile from her.

"Pil said her birthday was the day your parents accepted the offer. An auspicious sign." Severus looked from the baby to her and his wide smile faded to nothing. "You have to go to Diagon Alley for your school supplies, I believe." He gave her a polite nod. "I will see you tomorrow, when we must be Miss Granger and Headmaster once more."

There was none of the humour that had once coloured his voice when he called her Miss Granger. Oh gods, had he guessed her stupid schoolgirl crush and this was his response? This cool front. A warning for her to step back as he had so obviously done? And because of her crush, it appeared even friendship was impossible now.

Taking a deep breath to control the sudden surge of mortification, she nodded and turned away. She knew when she was dismissed. "Of course, sir."

He would not see her tears.

* * *

"Mione!"

She was swept up in wall of muscle that smelt oddly of broomstick polish, cake and mustard. "Ron, I need to breathe!"

He laughed and planted a kiss on her lips. "I thought I'd see you before here." He looked around the crowded train platform, bursting with children, parents, trunks and every kind of squawking, hooting and croaking familiar. "Your letter said your parents got their memories back at the beginning of August." He rubbed his large hands up and down her arms and smirked at her. "I was…lonely."

She gave him a bright smile and broke his hold, moving towards a carriage. "Well, I'm here now."

They'd never more than kissed and well, in a few days, she planned to do _a lot more_ with him. With…Severus, the quick flushes and the ache low in her belly had reminded her that she was a woman. A fact that she'd ignored for too long. It was time to recognise it. And exploring her emerging sexuality with Ron was…practical.

She winced and clambered into an empty compartment, Ron following after her. No, that sounded wrong. She had always wanted him. Pined for him. Sixth year, she'd been an absolute and embarrassing mess for him. And though their time in that god-forsaken tent had been tense…it had worked out in the end. _They_ would work out. She had to put in the effort, because every time she looked down, her arms felt empty and she expected to see Hope's brilliant black eyes staring up at her…

"Hermione?"

She looked up and found Harry, Ginny and Luna in the compartment with her…and the train had left the station. "What? Oh, sorry." She worked a smile across her mouth. "My head's still stuffy from jumping time zones."

Ron wrapped his long arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. He kissed the top of her messy hair, squeezing her. "Rest. Sleep. Give that brilliant brain of yours a break."

A smile tugged at her mouth and she closed her eyes. As she drifted off to sleep, she hated that Ron didn't smell right.

Her dreams were filled with brilliant, black eyes.

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Let me know what you think! :)


	5. Chapter 5

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This was first chapter I wrote in this story. It's been fiddled with a lot as I now have about 8k before it! I'm still in two minds about how it works... I think it has to do with the lack of Severus. ;-)

Also, I took a little licence with Fleur and Bill…

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Hermione looked up from her book as Ron sank down on the sagging couch set before the fire in the Gryffindor common room. He let out a long sigh and his shoulders sagged.

The huge transfiguration tome covered most of his lap and his finger tapped across the intricate swirls and scores cut into the ancient leather. Firelight danced across his resigned expression. "I know why we're doing this, but..."

Hermione frowned. "You want to be an Auror, you need good NEWTs."

Another irritated huff of his breath met that reply. "We could've owled them in." He waved his hand to the curve of darkened glass behind him. "Been out there. Doing...things."

Harry laughed and resettled himself in the chair closest to the heat of the hearth. "Descriptive, Ron."

Ron scowled. "We defeated Voldemort."

Hermione noticed he finally spoke that name without hesitation. But his declaration was a little...embracing. Yes, he –they— were major participants in the battle that ended Lord Voldemort, but Harry had cast the final blow. Not her. Not Ron.

"They should..."

Hermione lifted a disbelieving eyebrow. "Let it slide? Given you a signed waiver from Kingsley? _We missed our Seventh Year,_ Ron _._ Vital information needed in our adult life beyond these walls. We already have Orders of Merlin."

"As if that means anything. Handed out like sweets, they were," he muttered. "Even Snape got one."

" _Headmaster_ Snape—" Hermione bit off the need to lash out at her boyfriend. Severus Snape had sacrificed most of his adult life to seeing Tom Riddle reduced to so much ash. How Ron could begrudge him a medal, she didn't know. He deserved more.

And _she_ owed him. More than she could _ever_ repay.

Warmth and pain wrapped around her heart at the thought of the…the Headmaster. She had to will herself into thinking that title. He was no longer the friend he had been in those short few weeks... Her throat tightened and she gripped the leather edges of her book.

But she would not let Ron ignore Severus' persistence. His skill. His compassion. No, she would not have him begrudge Severus Snape _anything_.

"He deserves his Order of Merlin twice over." Hope's sweet little face burned through her memory and the shadowy ache refilled her belly. A bright pain. A deep want... "Especially with the work helping the wizard-born over the summer."

"Squibs..." Ron pulled a face. "Not that again, please, Mione. Your letters were stuffed with it."

She frowned at her boyfriend. "Why are you in such a mood? Was it that owl, earlier?"

His face scrunched and he caught his long fingers in his hair. "Fleur's pregnant."

A bright smile broke from Hermione. "Oh that's lovely. Your mother will be so happy."

Ron rolled his eyes, his sour expression deepening. "It's the start." He flopped his head against the sprung back of the couch and stared up at the curve of the ceiling. "The _grandchildren_. She wants a small herd."

Harry snorted and Ron jabbed a finger at him. "Laugh now. But it'll be expected. Don't think not being blood will let you escape!"

Harry shrugged and a soft smile touched his mouth. "I like babies."

"Mental, right, Hermione?" Ron grinned at her. "That's not us is it? Careers. A _life_. That's what we'll have. Not tied to a fistful —more if Mum has her way— of snotty brats. Bleeding away life and money. Children?" He gave a dramatic shudder. "Not for us."

Hermione blinked. Something turned over in her belly. _Ron didn't want children._ She drew in a breath, fighting the pain and panic and twitched a smile. "You should still revise, Ron. Professor McGonagall is brutal in her tests."

Did her voice sound flat? She couldn't tell. It seemed so far away. She looked back to her book, the firelight illuminating the words...but she didn't, couldn't read a single one.

Merlin she was so rubbish with relationships. Books. _Books_ were so easy to understand. Men -in a romantic way- were a mystery to her.

Their friendship was old, but her relationship with Ron was still so very new. Future plans had yet to be set. Discussed… _at all_. Had she read _this_ wrong too? Weren't they supposed to be looking towards…towards _marriage_ now? And Ron seemed to be, but without making it a partnership. The assumption there that her goals were the same as his…

Should she have talked to him straight after the battle? But it had all been so confused, chaotic, a whirlwind of awful funerals and guilt. With Voldemort dead, she'd thought only of securing her apprenticeship and prepping to retrieve her parents. Then she lost her summer to the Australian winter.

In the whirl of pulling together her supplies the day before, she'd spent no time with Ron. They'd done little more than kiss, though, with them being back at Hogwarts for three days, Ron was pressing for more. And soon.

As was she. She was. Fighting a war had put her whole life on hold. She'd been focused, pushing down her needs, especially in that last year...but then fear and hunger and the pervasive stink of teenage boys had aided her there.

Unbidden, the last memory of Severus in her parent's sitting room rose through her thoughts. Long windows reflected the soft burn of lamps and the lights of the nearby buildings as he talked with her mother. He'd gone muggle. An immaculate suit, his long hair caught back at the nape. Calm and cool. Golden light caught in the endless dark of his eyes and his pale skin was almost ethereal. He was _everything_ magical…

Hermione stared blankly at the words on the page before her, shoving away the hot pang in her chest. It had simply been a long overdue awakening to her burgeoning sexuality. Nothing more. And he had pulled back, hadn't he? Denying them even friendship. Her throat tightened. He…he did not want her.

Wand movements swam before her eyes on the page and she scrubbed her hands over her face, before catching her fingers in her wild hair. Harry lifted an eyebrow and she gave him a short smile, before she slumped on the couch and hid behind her book.

The instructions on the page were forgotten. Her mind was in a darkening swirl.

She had been waiting for Ron. Had waited for him. Faithfully. And as utterly frustrating as that was, she'd known Ron was her future. Not simply boyfriend and girlfriend. She loved him. They were supposed to be each other's forever. _Weren't they_?

She'd planned to sleep with him on Saturday —two nights away— but now he'd exploded this at her.

The feeling in her chest twisted. Tightened.

Ronald Weasley didn't want children.

As she'd told her mother, the one factor that had always drawn her to him –always— was his big family. Like her mother, Hermione loved children and she'd been honest with herself. She wanted a tribe.

She was all too aware that everyone looked at her and saw bookworm and spinisterish career woman. Yes, she wanted, _needed_ a brilliant job...but she ached for a whole mess of children. Her mother was the same, but biology had stopped that dream. Granger Hall had given _her_ a second chance.

The feeling of Hope in her arms rose again. In that moment, it was a torture…a future that was dying before her eyes.

Hermione had been thorough and had herself checked over by both muggle and magical healers before she left for Australia. She'd taken hard curses in the war…but everything was fine. Perfect, in fact, according to a Healer at St Mungo's. Her exact words had been "My dear young woman, you could pop out a fistful without blinking." It had made her belly swoop…but now that joy was tainted. Lost.

Hermione had assumed that coming from such a big family, Ron would want the same. To replicate his own happiness as a child. It'd been accepted by her, unspoken. It seemed Ron had made the same assumptions. An only child of educated, wealthy parents, bookish and career-focused. Obviously, to him, on the outside, such a woman wouldn't want children. Ever.

Hermione closed her eyes. Her throat ached. She'd had everything planned out. _Everything_. Even a plethora of names that went well with 'Weasley'.

She rubbed at her face again, denying the fall of tears. The memory of sitting in Severus' —in the _Headmaster's—_ office, ready to get her parents, with her future work and love life set, seemed a world away. She couldn't help the groan that escaped her.

"It's only Thursday. You're already studying too hard, Mione." Ron's solicitous voice stabbed at her.

She closed her book and a cloud of dust plumed. She twitched a smile. "I still think I'm caught in different time zones. I'll head to bed. Night." She piled her books into her bag and gave both boys a half wave. She was on the final stone step of the spiral staircase before she realised she'd not dropped her night time kiss on Ron's forehead.

Her fingers caught in the tangle of her hair and she let out a longer groan. Would he change his mind? Could she carry on with him, knowing this, wanting him to change? And if he didn't? Could she give up the idea of a family? Of a gaggle of little boys and girls chasing each other on brooms, reading, playing, fighting, of a home full of noise and laughter?

Or the quiet moment at the end of the day. A single moment of peace, with a fire, tea, a book and the happiness of knowing the little monsters were all fast asleep. And the dark-eyed look from her husband, with the offer of just one more...

Hermione stumbled into the single room Professor McGonagall had secured for her. All the returning Eighth Years were given the privilege. That hideous night, she was thankful for it.

She sank onto her bed, dropped her bag and pressed her hands to her face. She had to know exactly what Ron wanted before she slept with him. It was more important than finally discovering what sex was all about. Leading him on would be wrong, especially if they had diametrically opposite ideas.

Maybe he'd just been in a mood before Professor McGonagall's test? She snorted. The thought of school again after he'd not cracked open a book since the end of Sixth Year had to burn. Typical Ron.

Tomorrow. After supper.

Hermione flopped back onto her bed and stared up at the heavy velvet swag of the canopy. She'd talk to him then. And find out what her future would be.

_Fuck_.

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Let me know that you think! :)


	6. Chapter 6

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I think the updates will slow after this for a while. I have another approaching deadline _and_ I have to finish my Space Wolves :) But I will try to get the next chapter up by the end of the week.

And I'm glad everyone is enjoying this as much as I am writing it. :D

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Severus –damn it, _the Headmaster_ — rose from the table, bent for a few words with Professor McGonagall, before he swept from the Great Hall. He'd eaten his evening meal quickly, Hermione watching him from under her lashes. Was he going to see Hope again? Envy was a twist in her belly.

Would that have to be her future? Helping her parents with the wizard-born whenever she could to appease the long-head ache for her own family? The Collier Ache. Her mother's maiden name and her term for it...and Gwendolyn's family was vast and sprawling, all of them falling before the need for fistfuls of children.

She again unfolded the letter that had found her as she sat at the long table for breakfast. She'd written it through the night and crept out to the owlery to post it. Her mother's scrawl —she took it as a sign of her medical prowess that her handwriting was completely atrocious— covered a page of the thin, lined paper.

_My darling girl,_

_I know you have your heart set on this boy._

_Think. Look inside. What do you truly want?_

_If it's him, then you must acknowledge and accept that, if you have a future together, that he may not want to have children with you._

_Or as you said, he may be in a bad mood after opening a book…which is an odd thing to be, if you ask me. And you didn't, so I will be quiet. See? This is me with my pen over my mouth… *Hm-hmmm-hmn*_

Hermione bit her lip, fighting down a grin. Oh, she had missed the silliness of her mother's letters.

_Or there is the other, harder road. To accept that having children is too important for you to give up. Are you willing to compromise? Is he? Is one enough, or perhaps two? Is even that too many for him?_

_From my own experience, Hermione, having you was the best thing that ever happened to me…and to be told as I held you, new and fresh in my arms, that I could never have another…_

_That came close to being the worst._

_You see him as your forever boy. Is he truly that, my lovely girl? You've been friends for almost eight years. Are you mistaking this friend-love for something deeper?_

_Think. Is he an itch that you simply need to…scratch?_

_Examine all of these things before your speak with your boy._

_And, Hermione, please don't settle. For anything._

_Owl me whenever you need to. Tomes is a sweet and eager little chap._

_Love always,_

_Mum…and Dad, if I can drag from playing gobstones with Pil. Honestly!_

Hermione refolded the letter and tucked it into robes. She'd thought on the questions all day. Hardly giving a thought to Professor McGonagall's 'what have you remembered' test or any other of the lessons she'd drifted through.

What did she want? From Ron? From her life? Hermione thought she had an answer, maybe, perhaps, but she had to speak to Ron. She'd asked him to meet her down by the Black Lake. He'd grabbed food earlier as the Eighth Years had drummed up their own little, unofficial quidditch league.

She quashed the little daydream of her children swooping through the skies chasing after their laughing father.

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose, grabbed an apple, and pushed herself away from the long table. She worked a smile as Ginny and Luna swept past her laughing, hair wild and wind blown, cheeks pinked. It was a relief that they barely noticed her.

She wandered out into the entrance hall and let her feet take her down to the lake, her thoughts caught on the upcoming conversation.

The evening September air was pleasantly warm and Hermione drew its clean freshness into her lungs, wanting it to calm her. She had to time to sit, to relax, to let the stillness of the lawns and the lake sink into her flesh—

Except a recently scrubbed Ron was sitting in the shadow of a nearby oak. "Mione! Harry got into a fight with Malfoy and that new Dark Arts bloke –Pherson, the ex-Auror?— dragged them off to his office." He grinned at her and patted the grass beside him. "So, here I am."

Hermione sank onto the grass beside him, her belly a sinking raft of nerves. She fought to focus. "What were they fighting about? Harry and Malfoy?"

"Buggered if I know," he muttered. "Those two just spark. Mental, the pair of them." Ron traced a long finger over the sleeve of her t-shirt, to the bare skin of her arm. Her skin prickled at his touch and something curled in her belly. She called it want. "You've been quiet today."

"Thinking."

He grinned at her. "That's my girl."

She could fall into this with him. A life with him. Maybe he'd change his mind. Maybe... But she couldn't count on maybes. She had to know. "What made you not want children?"

His brows raised. "Fleur's pregnancy got you scared?"

"Something like that."

He pulled her too him and she rested her head against the broadness of his chest, staring up at the spreading leaves of the oak they sat beneath. A rare bit of Scottish sunshine threaded through, warming the varying shades of green. "We didn't have money, Mione. Everything I got was sixth hand. _Everything_. Nothing I ever did was praised as it should've been, because five other brothers had excelled at it before me. I don't want to live like that again. Hand to mouth. See my own disappointment in the face of my child.

"And children tie you down and bleed you dry. I decided early on, I never wanted any. Uncle Ron I'll cope with, but I'm more than happy to hand them back after five minutes." He let out a soft laugh. "It'll be brilliant, Mione. Doing what we want, how and when we want. Proper living."

Hermione closed her eyes and breathed. His scent still wasn't right. Fresher, but always with the hint of broom polish… Scratching the itch –as her mother had so _delicately_ put it— wasn't a necessity. A dark, guilt-ridden thought rose that, really, she didn't want to explore anything of that nature with _him_...

And with it, something cracked free in her soul. It made her next statement easier to push out. "I want children." She threaded her fingers through his as his hand covered her belly. She could imagine it swelled with a child, pressing her husband's hand to feel it kick. In that moment, she knew she _couldn't_ compromise.

Ron stilled around her. "One. Maybe," he choked out.

"Lots." She willed her voice not to break. She had to tell him everything. "At least five."

" _Merlin_ , Mione." Ron's voice was raw, disbelieving. "I..."

The silence stretched painfully between them. For a brief moment, she closed her eyes and a fist tightened in her chest. Even though it was the right decision —very probably for both of them— it still hurt. The end of a dream that she'd cherished, but it was one that belonged to a young girl. Not the people they were becoming. She finally saw that they weren't right for each other…not as anything more than friends. She almost huffed. Would they even have _that_ after today?

Hermione let out a sigh. "We both made assumptions."

Ron pulled his hand free from hers and shuffled back, each action breaking her heart just that little bit more. She did still love him. Just…not enough. Not as she should. Not simply for himself alone. Now, something they'd both wanted was ending before it truly began.

He pushed himself onto his feet, brushing away grass and twigs with shaking hands. "I need to think." He glanced at her, not quite meeting her gaze. "I..."

"It's best if we end this." She twitched a smile. "Better now, than years ahead."

"I could..." Blue eyes held her for a moment, sincere...but unsure.

"It's not fair on you. Or me. Or any children we had." She wet parched lips, her throat dry. She climbed to her feet. "I wanted to have a child soon." A wry smile tugged at her. "Ridiculously soon."

Ron shook his head. "I don't understand. Your education. A career. It's impossible to juggle that with a stream of babies."

"I have a plan —colour coded, naturally— setting out my apprenticeship plans. I mentioned it my letters. I've already been accepted by Professor Vector."

And that should've been a sign of impending disaster, not one she should've brushed away as it simply being… _Ron_. Two whole letters from him in almost three months. Twenty whole lines. Fifteen of them about quidditch.

"I'm taking my NEWTs before Christmas. My apprenticeship starts in January. Ministry Arithmancers spend minimal time there, I can work from home."

"Five children all under your feet at once?" Ron's eyebrow was high and disbelieving. "And getting your work done?"

Her belly soured. He'd leave her alone? Leave it all to her? "Teamwork? I'd expect the father of my children to take an active part in raising them."

Ron winced. "Nappies and feeding, no sleep? And Auror's hours aren't regular, Mione." He swept his hand over his hair. "One, one I could maybe cope with. And even then… But not… Not _five_. That's mental."

"Then you wouldn't be standing here. Did you forget you're _sixth_ of _seven_ , Ronald?"

"You're not facing the hard reality of that many children. You'll hate it."

He'd hate it. And did he think she believed it would be easy? She didn't. It would be bloody hard work. But she ached for it. She always had. Holding little Hope had only sharpened her need and made it impossible for her to chose a life without children. To chose _him_. The hard fact she had to face now, was that her family wouldn't be a little gaggle of redheads.

"This is what I need, Ron."

He let out a long sigh. "Then, I'm sorry." He lifted his hand to brush her cheek, but it fell away. "Shit." He turned away and strode back across the lawn towards the castle, anger fierce in his stiff shoulders and clenched hands.

Hermione slumped back to the grass and dug the heels of hands into her eyes. The reality of what she'd done smacked into her and tears burned. Fuck. She'd just watched her future blasted away, so much smoke and ash. All her little plans had been in place...everything but the father of her children actually _wanting_ children.

Merlin, had she made the right choice? _Had_ she? Ron had agreed to one. _One_ … But would she be like her mother? Aching for more…and Hermione had the knowledge that she _could_ have more.

Honestly, what were her options were men were concerned? Unless she beat her hair into submission and wrapped herself up in silk and paint, no boy had ever looked at her twice.

_Settling_. The word wove through her spinning thoughts. If she chased after Ron, that's that she'd be doing. Him too. He deserved the carefree life he'd envisioned for himself. As much as she deserved her clutch of babies—

"Miss Granger?"

She stopped herself from groaning and dragged her hands down her face. As if she needed _someone else_ she'd completely misread.

Professor Snape looked at her, his black eyes narrowed, and offered her a snowy white handkerchief. She took it with a murmur of thanks. It was soft and smelt faintly of warm herbs and wood. The scent calmed her. The fist in her chest still tightened further. Why did _he_ always have to smell so right to her?

"Have you ever wanted a family, Professor?"

The question ran from her and her cheeks heated. He'd loved only one woman and she'd chosen another. Hermione had often wondered if Severus was so bitter and scathing to Harry because he was the son he'd never had the chance to have. "Sorry, sir, I shouldn't—"

"I will never have that privilege," he murmured. His gaze moved to the expanse of the Black Lake. "That time has gone." He drew in a breath. "This time I'll have with Hope… She is enough."

"You're still a young man, sir."

His laughter was soft and dark. "I am well aware of what I am, Miss Granger."

Her fingers tightened in the soft fabric of the handkerchief, the need bubbling up, hot and fast, to defend him. Even against himself. And they were alone, but he was still insisting on their titles in the open school grounds. The necessity of it hurt.

She looked up. Merlin, she'd missed him. She'd reread through his heaps of letters. Warm and sarcastic and familiar, a way of having him in her life every day. Yet even in those letters, she'd never pushed such...intimate subjects. "But with...Riddle gone—"

"My life is my own?"

His smile was short, just a twitch of his expressive lips. And her belly gave a traitorous little flutter. Damn it, it'd only been minutes since her break from Ron… But had these summer feeling for Severus _ever_ died down? To her increasing horror, under _that_ smile, they seemed ten times worse.

Severus lifted a dark eyebrow. "Hardly my own, Miss Granger. What's brought this on? I thought you were readying yourself for a career as an arithmancer?" His eyes narrowed and humour gleamed. Her heart did a little patter. How long had it been since she'd seen that look? "Septima will go on a rampage if you pull out now."

"I will still apprentice to…Septima." It was strange to use the witch's given name and not his. "I..." She broke away from his warm gaze to stare at the grass. "Ron and I, we're not… Anymore. I want children. Ron doesn't." Severus opened his mouth. "Lots of children. Five. At least."

The twitch of his smile increased. "That's quite something to tell a young man of eighteen."

Hermione huffed a laugh. "It is, isn't it?" Her brows drew together. "You're not telling me I'm insane for wanting so many. Why?"

"I _have_ met your mother and am quite aware of her baby-sniffing obsession. I assume it is…genetic."

That brought out another, easier laugh and with it, a sliver of her worry fell away. Severus could always do that. And gods, she'd missed their friendship.

She had a suspicion that her mother had had a hand in his being there, ready, with a smile and a handkerchief…but she didn't care. She almost _welcomed_ her busy-body mother's interference.

_He had come_. He was there. _Severus_ was letting her in again. And for that she was more than grateful. "Thank you for not saying I'm mental."

"Never that." He put out his hand and lifted his eyebrow. "Would you care to join me for tea, Miss Granger?"

A wide smile tugged at her mouth and she took his offered hand, allowing herself to be drawn to her feet. His fingers eased away and he clasped them behind his back. Hermione told herself she didn't miss the callused warmth of his touch. It was a lie.

"Tea. The panacea for all ills."

They fell into step and the Headmaster gave her one of his quietly warm smiles. "Just so."

* * *

It's taken 6 chapters…but Ron is finally out of the picture. Sort of. Perhaps…

And 6 chapters is an _age_ for me. I usually have him being odious in the first paragraph… ;-)


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

SpaceWolf -yes, that's the title I sent in, lmao- is practically finished. So naturally, here I am writing 2k on Offer ;-)

* * *

"You know, it's not normal to have tea with the Headmaster."

Hermione looked up from her morning edition of the _Daily Prophet_. She still couldn't find the article the so-called journalist from the rag had said they'd write. She was sure it would be tucked away at a tangent to a skin-care for hags crème… "What?" She frowned up at Harry who was attacking his toast with a butter knife.

"These weekly teas. With Snape."

Her frown deepened and a spark of anger fired in his chest. He could not still hold his hatred of Severus, not after everything that he now knew. "He has tea with various people."

"You do know 'tea' is starting to sound like _something else_?" was Ron's unhelpfully snide little comment.

Hermione thinned her lips and glared at him. He shrugged his shoulders, gave her a faux-innocent look –all wide eyes and lifted brow— and turned back to his small piglet's worth of sausages.

Their friendship was strained. It hardly helped that in the six weeks since they'd broken up, Ron had discovered he was something of a war hero to half the school. The _female_ half, to be exact. He was already on a warning from Professor McGonagall for lewd behaviour unbecoming to an Eighth Year.

Did it sting that she could be so easily replaced? Yes, it did. And it wasn't as if anyone else had noticed her single status and even _smiled_ her way. She flicked a glance to the Head Table and the Headmaster's empty chair. Her belly did its usual flip-flop, even though he wasn't even there. Not that she would want _that_ complication…

She shrugged. "I'm going to be here for at least two more years, Harry."

"So you have tea with Vector too?" He rolled his eyes at Ron's half bark of a laugh and his muttered, "She gets around" and looked back to Hermione. "Well?"

Hermione gave him a snippy little smile and folded her paper. She picked up her tea. "Tuesdays. After my lesson. We discuss my apprentice proposal."

"Well, people are talking."

Harry's gaze flickered to Ron and Hermione frowned. What had the ginger menace done now? "And _what_ are they saying?"

"Stuff," Ron said.

She rolled her eyes. "Eloquent, Ronald."

Ron stabbed his fork into a sausage and started to eat it. Hermione held back a wince, but now –thankfully— it wasn't her job to try to beat manners into his skull. A definite plus side to their parting. "As Harry said." He waved the half-eaten sausage at her. "It's not right."

"You're our friend, Hermione. And it _is_ getting noticed."

Hermione's lips pinched together. "This place is a cauldron hissing with gossip. As long as nothing is repeated," she fixed Ron with a hard stare, "then it will be fine."

He held up his hands, waving the end of the sausage. "Hey, it wasn't me." He finished it off and speared another. Where he put that much greasy feed, Hermione dreaded to think. She held down a shudder. Did wizards suffer from clogged arteries?

"Good." Hermione helped herself to scrambled egg and rashers of bacon. Her mug of tea was magically refilled by helpful elves. Ron's breakfast was disappearing at a rate of knots and she couldn't help herself. He was still her friend. "Ron, maybe you shouldn't eat…"

His bared teeth snapped against the tines of his fork and his blue eyes held hers. Sharp. Angered. Ah, it was like that. She wasn't allowed to say anything to him, even as a friend.

"Ron…" A Sixth Year Hufflepuff sidled up to the table, all coy smiles and flipping hair. Hermione fought hard not to roll her eyes. Harry failed completely. "You promised to help me with Arithmancy before the train this afternoon."

Hermione blinked. _Hard_. Ron? Whose eyes glazed at the mere mention of the word…but there was a spark there now. Oh, this was a weak dig at her chosen career path. She did roll her eyes then and turned her attention back to her breakfast. She was certain Ron was only interested in one kind of mystical relationship…and it had nothing to do with numbers.

Ron transfigured a napkin into a box and shovelled his mound of sausages and bacon inside. He clambered off the bench. "Sure, Helena." He grinned, wiped his hand on his robes and put a long arm around the slender girl. They ambled from the Great Hall, Helena's giggles cutting through the clatter and murmur of the students.

"He's not over your break up, you know."

Hermione almost spluttered her tea. Had Harry just missed Ron leaving with Helena the Hufflepuff? How was his glasses prescription these days? She shook her head and put her mug down. "Yes, playing around with every girl from the Sixth Year up will make me run back to him."

"He's not thinking clearly. He's lashing out."

Hermione shook her head. "It's over. We agreed."

"Maybe if you…" His words trailed away at her hard glare. "Not my business? It's yours. And I should keep my nose out?"

"Outstanding, Mr Potter."

"You sound like _him_ , you know." A wince pulled at his cheek. "And Ron does have a point. It _is_ strange to have tea with Snape."

"You used to…" Hermione lost the words. Everyone Harry had once talked to out of school hours was dead.

He drew in a breath and let it out, slow and with the edge of a tremor. "Remus was a friend to my family."

Hermione reached across the table to take his hand. She squeezed and gave him a small smile. "And the Headmaster is a friend to mine. He's even advising my father on how to play gobstones. You remember, his mother was a captain of the game here?"

"And you're spending half term with him."

"You've been sitting next to Ron for too long." She shook her head. " _I_ am going _home_. Home is now Granger Hall. Where, so far, ten wizard-born children from 10 weeks to six years old currently live. Headmaster Snape oversees the care of these children on behalf of the Ministry." Sparks of anger rose in her at his thickheadedness. He'd definitely spent too much time with Ron. "Is that clear enough?" She sighed. "What is this really about, Harry?"

"Ron."

Hermione caught her fingers in her hair and pulled, fisting her hands. "He and I…"

"It was supposed to be you and Ron—"

"As it's supposed to be you and Ginny?" Hermione hissed and slumped on the bench. "Sorry."

Harry took off his glasses and pinched his nose. "That's a fair point. I thought it was us too. But like you and Ron, it's over. We agreed."

Hermione lifted an eyebrow. "And you have your eye on someone…?"

A cut of red chased across his cheeks and his mouth thinned. Tension rippled off him. Hermione had a good guess who had him quite so riled up…but she didn't push it further. Harry was obviously having his own troubles over who had caught his eye.

"It will work out." She gave him a short smile as he blinked at her, his startling green eyes quite wide. "I'm sure of it."

"Hermione…?" There was a hint of desperation in the single word. To silence her, or to demand an answer. It was probably both.

She leant across the table and with a whisper cast a discreet _muffliato_. Severus, with a sigh, had shown her the exact wand movement and the low hissing had vanished under it. "I've seen him avidly watching you too."

Harry reared back from her. "You… _know_ …"

"I suspected, on both your parts." She sat back on the bench and worked to finish her breakfast. She would soon be disapparating with Severus and she wanted at least some time for her breakfast to digest.

She looked up to find Harry simply staring at her. "You know," she set her cutlery across her empty plate and it vanished, "the Headmaster is calling in favours to support the Hall. I can let you know the weekend a certain snooty blond patron will be in attendance." She picked up her mug and watched him over it. It hid her smile. She could see why her mother loved to play match-maker. The power was tantalising. "If you like..."

"Why would I want to—"

"A neutral place. No history. Hope is a very sweet and placid little girl. Hold her and you can look dashing with a baby. And we wouldn't say no to a generous donation."

"You are becoming quite Slytherin, Hermione."

"I want you happy, Harry. If he can make you happy…" She shrugged.

A wry smile tugged at his mouth, and her friend suddenly looked older. Mature. "And who will make you happy, Hermione?"

The black sweep of robes caught in the corner of her eye and she _finite_ 'd the muffling spell. Severus strode down the aisle between the tables, fierce and utterly delicious. She willed down the heat in her face, hoping that an already disapproving Harry didn't see her girlish swoon. And Merlin, she felt as obvious as Helena the Hufflepuff. She'd be curling a finger through her hair next!

"Are you ready, Miss Granger?" Severus' dark eyes dropped to her bag. With a flick of his wand, he shrank it and handed it to her. "Time moves on." His briskness was a front. Not that she minded. She was more than happy to deal with Severus Snape in all his forms.

"Yes, sir. Ready to go." She grabbed her coat and scarf and smiled at Harry. "Think about what I said, all right?"

He gave a distracted nod, the hint of a frown pulling at his brow as he fixed his attention on Severus. Hermione's stomach tightened, but when his eyes returned to her, there was no darkening. No disgust. "I will. Have a good week, Hermione."

Severus lifted an eyebrow as he strode away with her, though his pace was slowed to match her shorter frame. Hermione recast the _muffliato_. She had no bother in sharing her suspicion with Severus, as it would affect him too. She also wanted to see him splutter.

"Harry fancies Draco."

He slid her a dark look. An amused smile lifted his lips as he waved her out of great doors before him. "That much has been obvious for a _number_ of years, Hermione. And I have little doubt Draco returns his interest."

"How…?"

The outer doors opened and a gust of fierce, October air swept around him. Hermione automatically whipped a warming charm around Severus before the cold attacked his venom-weakened flesh. He gave her a surprised nod of thanks.

"I was a spy. A teacher for decades. And it was my duty to keep a sharp eye on both of the little horrors. I couldn't miss it."

Hermione laughed and pulled her scarf tight around her neck. She hoped Kent was warmer than the icy October rush of Scotland. "I said I could arrange to let him know when Draco visited the Hall…with the hint that a donation wouldn't be frowned upon."

Severus gave a soft snort. "Nicely done. And the grounds are big enough for them to work out their…differences." He huffed a laugh. "It will also make my life easier if they channel their excess testosterone in a…less destructive way."

They padded down the steps together, making their way to the school gates in a companionable silence. It was comfortable, with no need to fill in the time with useless chatter. And Severus never _ever_ brought up the subject of quidditch. That alone was a little bit of bliss.

The gates loomed ahead of them. They groaned, metal grating against, as the hinges worked to swing open. Stepping through, the gates quickly clanged behind them.

Severus lifted an eyebrow. "Side along?"

Hermione didn't trust her mouth, nor her brain, so simply gave a quick and muted nod. She stepped in close, his warm scent sharp and delicious in the cool morning air. She looked up, her heart in her mouth and grateful she could blame her no doubt deeply red face on the icy air. Almost shy, she held his impossibly dark eyes. "Closer?"

There was that twitch of his lips that she loved. "If you please?"

The words where a sinful rumble that jumped her pulse and she pressed herself too him. She closed her eyes. The scent of herbs clung to his frockcoat and she breathed him in as her arms wrapped around his waist. He was slim, but there was a fierce strength to him. A solidness. Severus Snape would not easily fall.

A wry smile pulled at her mouth. And that was her problem, right there, wasn't it?

The loop of his arms around her, secure and safe, tightened the knot in chest. For a mad moment, she thought she felt his cheek press to her hair, but it was fleeting. And gone. Wishful thinking on her part.

His feel, his scent, it was…right. So right. She wished she could revel in her feelings. But that was a dangerous pastime when the wizard was only a friend. An increasingly close friend. But still a friend with his heart bound to another. And she could not lose _this_ friendship as the one with Ron cracked and crumbled away. She was all too aware that Severus' coolness had almost splintered her heart.

"Ready?"

The deep rumble of his voice warmed through her flesh. She closed her eyes. The whip of the wind dried the streak of wetness on her cheek.

A heartbeat later Severus' surge of magic turned them away to Granger Hall.

* * *

Let me know what you think! :)


	8. Chapter 8

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Oh, lookee, I have another deadline. I have until Tuesday to get my wip of 35.5k to 40k and polish it till it gleams. And write a dreaded blurb. *shudder* Hates them...

Anyway, this is a little bit transitiony again.

* * *

Hermione teased a brown strand of hair from the delicate perfection of Hope's forehead. Such velvet softness. Sunlight slanted into the warm kitchen as she sat in a well-padded window seat. It was a little bit of bliss. The great wooden dressers, the ancient but gleaming range, the murmurs of happy house elves putting together breakfast for their charges. The start of the day in a magical family home.

She wouldn't have this grand luxury, all mullioned windows and vaulted oak beams. She eyed the little house elves in their Granger Hall tunics. And possibly not a house elf. But this quiet moment, just her and her little one…

The mixture of pain and happiness in her chest twisted the thought. Hope sucked happily on her bottle, tiny fingers flexing and Hermione wanted to inhale her, her delicious baby scent, the soft odours of clean skin, washed cotton and warm milk.

Hermione breathed through the ache for her own child. She was nineteen. There would be time. There was a wizard out there for her. Somewhere... She tried not to think of the dark wizard currently sleeping along the corridor from her room.

The sound of sucking sharpened as the last of the milk drained away.

"All done, sweetling?" Hermione wiped a muslin cloth over the milk dribbles, remembering to catch behind Hope's ears to stop it becoming cheese —her mother's favourite expression. Dropping the cloth over her shoulder, she perched Hope there and began to rub gentle circles into her back.

A burp of Hagrid proportions erupted from the tiny baby and laughter broke from Hermione. Male laughter joined hers and Hermione's heart turned over.

_Severus_.

"What _has_ she been feeding you, Hope?"

He emerged from an archway, immaculate in his usual wizarding wear of frockcoat, starched collar and form fitting trousers. Hermione tried not to admire the lean length of his legs…and failed. Her fingers itched to undo the buttons that chased up his calf. _All_ of his buttons were complete temptation…

Hope turned her head and gave the wizard a gummy grin. She babbled and milk dribbled. Hermione wiped around her mouth and offered the baby to him. It was a wonder she got a chance with the little girl. Severus was a hawk around Hope.

"She only talks to you."

"Because I," he bopped the baby on her chin and nose and Hope squealed, "am the only one with whom Hope is able to hold a half decent conversation. Isn't that right?"

Hope grabbed his nose and burbled at him. Severus grinned and his dark eyes shone with affection, with…love.

Hermione looked to her hands, and found her fingers curled around the perfectly round white moonstone that hung from her neck. Severus' present to her on her birthday. Merlin, how her heart had thumped when he clipped it, his warm fingertips brushing the nape of her neck. A warm, delicious shiver had swept over her and her legs felt as though they'd been hit with a hex.

But…he stepped back and gave her one of his polite smiles.

A friend. He was her friend.

She teased the warmed stone between her thumb and index finger. Still, that little curl of jealousy was there. She wanted his look of affection, of love for herself. And that thought was a sour burn. Hope had no one. And Severus was grabbing his second –possibly his _first_ — chance to have a family. She'd never deny them their connection.

"What are your plans for the day, Hermione?"

She looked up in surprise, letting the moonstone fall against her jumper. It was Saturday, the first day of the half-term. Her plans had been to help out with the children, but mainly to revise. She had only six weeks before she sat her NEWTs. She'd not known Severus' plans, other than monopolising Hope.

Her belly did a dangerous little swoop. Did he want to include her in their day?

She gave a quick shrug. "Revising. Mainly."

Something shifted in his gaze and he looked from her back to Hope. A warm smile tugged at his mouth as the baby grinned up at him and a tension Hermione wasn't aware he was holding seemed to ease away. "Hope and I have a full day planned. First on our itinerary is a walk around the Physic Garden. Hope expressed an interest in medicinal herbs."

The little girl cooed and made a grab for one of his frockcoat buttons.

Hermione shook her head, unable to stop the soft laughter that broke free. "You have her mapped out as a doctor at 10 weeks old?"

"A biochemist. Lady Margaret Hall, I think is a good choice—"

"Severus, you can't pick out her place at Oxford at 3 months!"

He smirked at Hermione, before looking back at Hope, who smiled up at him, her dark eyes happy and shining. "You like my choice, don't you, my Hope? Don't listen to the nasty, evil soon-to-be apprentice of Arithmancy."

Hermione glared at him, a curl of annoyance heating her chest. Terrible man! "Don't bad mouth me to—" Hermione twitched and willed a smile as a hot flare of mortification swept over her. Merlin save her, she'd been about to say, "Don't bad mouth me to our daughter".

She wanted to run. Hide. Lose her insane crush in her books. But the chance…the chance to wander around the autumnal gardens, to have Severus no doubt lecture her on myriad uses of the ordinary plants in rare potions. To live in the fantasy that they were a family… She wasn't strong enough to resist it.

"Wrap her up well. I'll meet you down by the bootroom in half an hour."

She heard the murmured, "Hermione is so very bossy, Hope. You'll get used to it" as she passed through the door onto the back stairs.

Hermione couldn't stop her smile.

* * *

Gwendolyn watched the little group wander out across the small, flagged courtyard and through an arch into the gardens beyond.

She groaned and pressed her hands to her face. What was she to do with them?

Turning back to the long table crowded with breakfasting children, a smile broke from her. She met little Lisbeth's cautious smile with a brighter grin. The four year old had been with them only a week, brought in from care. Severus was ruthless in driving the ministry to recover the abandoned children. He was such a good man. Dangerous and dark, certainly, but his heart was in exactly the right place.

"It's warm enough to go out, I think," she said, moving around the table to help with bowls and spoons and cups. Offering fruit. Wiping mouths. They babbled and chattered, growing in confidence minute by minute. Gwendolyn's smile kept on growing.

They'd need more people soon, mirroring their business in Sydney. She didn't want to rely completely on the elves. They were making these children ready for the muggle world as well as their own magical one, after all.

"I see Hermione and Severus already have gone out." There was a waspish curl to his words and Gwendolyn gave him a hard stare.

Edward ignored her and twirled a spoon, making aeroplane noises as he aimed another spoon of mashed carrot towards Parlan's open mouth. He grinned and the boy returned it, orange stain coating his gums. "Oh well done, little man. Is that yum? Yes? Here comes another!"

Edward still wasn't convinced that Severus was perfect for their daughter. Her husband was _blind_.

Though…Hermione was convinced Severus saw her as no more than a friend. And Severus was probably caught in the fact she was half his age, had been —still was— his student and would be in his employ in the New Year. All good solid reasons for him to hold back.

Didn't they see that they could admit their interest…and wait? She wanted to bang their heads together. She really did. _Honestly_.

She was also well aware that Hermione had the dreaded Collier ache, that fierce need for children. A great big pile of them… Severus would _readily_ support her there too. She was certain of it.

Gwendolyn grinned at the crowded table, bursting with noisy children and a little bubble of joy rose in her chest. God, she wanted this for Hermione.

She reached across and eased a spoon from Tallis' grip before he smacked it over Grace's knuckles. A pair of four year old inseparable twins, who liked to take chunks out of other. "Ah, a spoon is for your breakfast, not your sister's hand."

Tallis huffed and gave her a mulish glare. Grace stuck out her tongue and happily waggled her own spoon. The little boy stuck his hand into his cornflakes and hurled a soggy pile at his sister's head. Grace screeched—

And it was time for Gwendolyn to focus before world war three broke out.

She could put off her working out her daughter's future until later.

* * *

They were wandering over the rolling lawn, the air sweet and just the right side of cool, when her mind turned to Hermione again.

Edward was carrying Parlan and the toddlers and older children were loose and roaming under the watchful eye of the elves. She had this moment to think.

Her baby girl was a natural with children. Natural as she was at everything. Though not flying on a broomstick —as the kicked-to-the-kerb boy had delighted in telling them over his third piece of cake. That had sealed Gwendolyn's dislike, over and above his bottomless stomach. No one made fun of her baby _to her_.

And Severus was like Edward. She glanced at her silly husband gurning at a laughing Parlan. A man —wizard— happy to make a fool of himself over the sweetness of a baby.

Oh, she knew that Severus Snape had been a complete git when he taught Hermione. And she was certain Hermione's letters home had been nowhere close to revealing everything.

Gwendolyn had made it her mission to find out about the mysterious man and worn out their little owl, Tomes, in getting back issues of the Daily Prophet. God, what an awful paper. And the book _Severus Snape: Saint or Sinner_. It was a wonder that woman was still breathing. Severus could not have approved it.

Her reading had revealed another complication. Lily Potter.

Her highly logical Hermione would see his devotion to Lily, and believe his heart was still caught on _her_.

Gwendolyn would believe it herself. He'd spent years protecting a hated man's child all in his dead friend's name, had almost died to hold his vows to her. But…she'd seen the way Severus looked at her daughter. The thing of a moment, but it was there, an affection and a…longing.

And there they were walking back from the Physic Garden. Hermione held Hope and was chattering away to her, and Severus was smiling. The smile of a contented man who had everything he wanted in the world right there before him.

Gwendolyn rubbed her hands together. Right. She would make them see.

Consider their heads well and truly bashed together.

* * *

"So, Severus, tell me." Gwendolyn leant forward in her wingback chair and lifted an eyebrow. "What are your future plan's concerning my daughter?"

Severus stilled, the cup lifted to his mouth. Firelight flickered in his impossibly black eyes. "She will be an apprentice to Hogwarts for three years. Though this is Hermione. I expect her to take half that time to complete her studies."

Oh, he'd fallen back into the stiffly correct Headmaster. Was he afraid she'd warn him off? He couldn't be more wrong. She'd be there with bloody pom-poms.

"I'm not blind, Severus."

A muscle jumped in his jaw. "Gwendolyn…"

She put the man out of his misery. "She feels the same way."

He blinked. Twice. Had she just completely thrown the unflappable former-spy?

Gwendolyn sipped her tea and let him recover. The bright fire snapped and popped, its light washing around the cosy little snug. It was approaching ten. The children were asleep. Hermione had excused herself to revise. Edward had twisted Pil into a gobstones rematch and that had left her and Severus, with tea and a chat about bringing in more people –especially those with a background in early years education. He'd said he would find people. She didn't doubt they'd be rolling up to the Hall by the following Monday.

With business out of the way, she'd seized her chance.

"And what do you –and Edward— think about her feelings?"

Gwendolyn almost smirked at him. _Such_ a sneaky question. "Edward is her grumbly curmudgeon of a father. No one is ever good enough, blah, blah." Severus was frozen, a statue watching her. "I, on the other hand, think it would be a blessing for both of you."

He blinked again. And looked into his teacup. Perhaps it was the firelight, but she was sure there was a hint of red flushing across his sharp cheekbones. "She truly…?"

Gwendolyn in that moment shared her daughter's need to hug the man. She let out a long breath. "Tell her, Severus. My girl is as sharp as they come, but she is...inexperienced. Her numb-skulled friends didn't even notice she was a _girl_ for the longest time." Gwendolyn would _not_ get into a rant about Ronald Weasley. Hermione's loyalty to that boy had driven a spike between her and Severus, after all. "She thinks you could never hold any feelings but friend." Her lips twitched into a smile. "And we both know how wrong _that_ is."

He glanced up to see her waggling her eyebrows and a huff of laughter escaped him. But then he sighed and caught his fingers in his hair. "Hermione is young. Very young." A bitter smile pulled at his lips. "I'm _twice_ her age. Was her teacher. I _am_ her Headmaster."

Yes, all the proper reasons for his being hesitant. "You don't have to rush. Just put my poor girl out of her misery."

He gave a nod, smooth and elegant. Severus Snape had made a promise.

Gwendolyn _knew_ how golden that was.


	9. Chapter 9

* * *

And late on this one as Gwendolyn wrote me into a corner. But she does like to interfere...

Again, a little transition-y, but chapter ten will be all SSHG goodness. Promise. :)

* * *

The riot of Great Hall at breakfast washed over her as Hermione picked her way up the aisle to her usual space on the cramped benches. Harry was already there, laying waste to bacon sandwiches.

She plopped down onto the bench opposite him and picked up her mug of tea. This was her last full day as a student. Her NEWTs were behind her. The last NEWT had completed only the day before…and her head was still spinning from it. From all of it. From it all being _over_.

They broke up the next afternoon for Christmas holidays, and it all felt quite…surreal. She glanced back at the high doors to the hall and her teeth found her bottom lip. _Beyond_ surreal.

Hermione turned her right hand, the light from the golden candles throwing warmth across her skin. A prickle, nothing more, still touched her skin. Like a push of magic that seemed to slip, to play over her knuckles. It was all in her imagination. But her heart. Her heart was a wild hammering thing in her chest—

Owls swooped in, diving with skill between the candles and releasing their letters. One slapped onto the table before her and she recognised her mother's hideous scrawl.

"Morning, Hermione."

Harry picked up his mug and smiled. At least he could chew and swallow before speaking. Hermione's gaze slid to the far end of the table where Ron and Lavender were close enough to begin wearing each other as a second skin. A smile tugged at her mouth. Hermione didn't doubt Lavender was playing the long game. She'd run Ron to ground in the end.

Hermione picked up her letter and slid her thumbnail through the seal.

Harry frowned at it, turning his head. "Your mother's handwriting is terrible."

She smirked at him. "Completely deliberate." She deciphered the last lines and folded it over again. It was not one to be read in front of her friend.

Harry frowned as Ginny and Luna burst into the Great Hall, his expression growing confused as Ginny plonked herself down on the Ravenclaw table and began the Weasley tradition of clearing away all food within arm's reach. "Ginny and Luna are very close all of a sudden."

Hermione shook her head. "Harry, they're going out."

"To where?"

Why didn't she have a thick book to whack him with? "Not _where_. With _each other_."

Harry simply stared, watching the two young woman sharing breakfast. Gleaming, wild blonde hair tucked close to vivid red. He blinked, took off his glasses, cleaned them, and blinked a few more times. "That was unexpected."

Hermione laughed. Had he not noticed Ginny's smiles, the little touches, Luna's glow when Ginny was near? The fact that they were _always_ together? Obviously not. "Not really."

He put his glasses back and tore his attention away from them and back to her. "Oh, all right."

Hermione had to break into his daze. "What are you doing for Christmas, Harry?" She lifted an eyebrow. "I know you're at the Burrow, and hosting something at Grimmauld Place…but do you have any _spare_ time?"

Harry's eyes narrowed on her with suspicion. "What are you up to?"

She flicked a discreet _muffliato_ around them and leant forward, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "I heard a rumour that a certain blond slytherin will be at Granger Hall between Christmas and New Year. Should you wish to –I don't know— drop in to visit one of your best friends, perhaps you could meet him?"

Harry's cheeks pinked. It was rather sweet. He looked down. "I don't…"

"Don't miss your chance, Harry." She shook her head. "Don't make that mistake."

He slid a glance to Ron putting people off their breakfast at the far end of the table. "He'd still have you back, you know."

Her friend really was quite obtuse, but she couldn't hold that against him. "I know. But Ron and I have very different life plans." She smirked at him. "And you are not going to distract me with questions about him." Her eyes narrowed and she took pride in the nervous heat suddenly suffusing his face. She could _still_ badger Harry. "Your decision, Mr Potter?"

"You spend too much time with Snape. You really do."

Her mouth twitched, but she didn't point out that Severus had been too busy for their Sunday teas. Had been since the half term.

A wizard-born baby had reacted badly to the spell that had confirmed his lack of magic and Severus was spending every spare moment he could battling to save the little mite's life. And he'd refused her help. She couldn't be distracted from her NEWTs at such a late stage, he'd argued.

Hermione stroked the paper in her robe pocket. She hoped her mother's letter had positive news on Joshua.

"That is also not an answer."

"Fine. Let me know which day, and I will…happen to visit."

Hermione reached across the table and patted his hand. "Now was that so difficult?"

Harry huffed a laugh and she finite'd the muffling spell. "You are a scary woman, Hermione Granger."

She snorted. "Wait till you meet my mother."

"And it seems I will." He pushed himself away from the table, snagging another two sandwiches for the journey to Transfiguration classroom. "Coming?"

"Already sat my NEWTs remember?" Hermione smirked at him. "No more lessons for me."

"So you're going to slob about?"

" _Absolutely_."

Harry grinned and shook his head. "See you at lunch, Hermione." His grin faded and he lifted his shoulders. His mouth twitched into a brief, embarrassed smile. "And thank you."

She flicked her fingers at him. "Go. And practice being charming."

Harry grinned and rand his fingers through his already wild hair. "Yeah. Right."

And then he was gone, striding from the hall, oblivious and messy haired as always.

With no one else to disturb her, she pulled out a letter and spelled it so that no one could read the contents but her. She frowned at the scrawl, littered with inkstains and crossings out. Her mother was reaching new heights in illegibility. She hardly needed the spell at all.

_My darling girl._

Something was written in cramped letters below the greeting and down the margins and Hermione had to twist and turn the paper to read it.

_Severus has delivered Joshua to us no more than ten minutes ago. Hail and healthy. He is completely discharged from St Mungo's. And completely_ ours _. Your father cried. Silly, adorable man._

Hermione pressed her lips together and surreptitiously wiped at her eyes, taking away her own tears. She let out a long, cleansing breath.

_I've edited this due to our good news. And if you say you've hardly noticed the difference, I will tell Pil to deny you his special lemon meringue pie. Which would be a great loss indeed. Consider yourself warned, young lady… *narrow-eyed Mother-glare right here*_

Hermione, with a grin, righted the paper and began the letter proper. There were great swirls of lines and jagged scratchings and inkblots, no doubt crossing through her concern about Joshua.

_…so, I know this has been a difficult time. For both of you. But wait. And trust that everything will work out._

_Severus Snape is the best of men. Or wizards. No, actually, I think I'll stick with men. More of them, and he still beats them. All of them. With perhaps, the exception of your father. I think he's quite good too._

_Don't give up hope, my lovely girl. You'll have everything you want. I promise you._

_Love Mum, and Dad, who is mooching about somewhere with Pil looking for a Christmas tree._

Hermione closed her eyes. Was this more of her mother's handy work? The not so subtle push. And Hermione wanted to believe. She glanced at the doors again, the memory of meeting Severus just beyond them still swirling around in her thoughts.

He'd been wearing his travelling cloak, ready for his daily trip to St Mungo's to help with Joshua. Tall and straight, his features stark in the cold winter light. But still her heart pattered and there was heat in her face. She'd missed their time together, but he had his duty to the baby and she, as he'd rightly pointed out, had her NEWTs.

Severus drew her from the doors and the stream of nosy children, to a quiet corner. He took her hand, her right one, and her breath stopped. Warm. His fingers were warm and callused and simply…overwhelming against her skin. His thumb drew across her knuckles, and he watched the slow slide, caught, she hoped in the touch as much as she was…

"Hermione." His voice was low and his gaze met hers. Quiet. Confident. "I do not have the time right now." He let out a long breath and his mouth pursed into _such_ a kissable shape she almost swayed into him. "I have not had the time for weeks to meet with you. I have missed that."

She swallowed, her mouth dry and nodded as she murmured, "Me too."

The barest smile lifted his lips. "Then please, come to me tonight. Seven o'clock. There is much I have to tell you."

Her heart turned over and around in her chest and dizzied her thoughts. Gods, she didn't want this to be about her apprenticeship. Or gossip about the new staff at the Hall. The words escaped her before she could stop them. "Can I have a hint?"

"Impatient girl," he murmured, a low, delicious rumble than ran a shiver down to her toes.

He brought her hand to his mouth and brushed smooth, warm lips against the curve of her knuckles. Light. Quick. The action of a moment. But Hermione's world tilted, forever changed.

"Until tonight."

Then he was gone, out into the freezing December morning.

Hermione folded up her letter and tucked it away. She ran her thumb over her knuckles, the touch reminding her of his kiss. So slight a thing. But her heart swelled with it.

And she dared to hope.

* * *

Let me know what you think! :)


	10. Chapter 10

* * *

And not a short chapter, hurrah!

It'll probably be a week before I can get to this fic again. I hope this will last you... ;-)

* * *

Hermione risked only a glance to them as Ron and Lavender ate each other's faces over the dinner table. They'd been on and off since she and Ron and parted in September. Three months later –and a plethora of side relationships— and they were once again putting the Gryffindors off their dessert.

Lavender was tenacious, Hermione would give her that.

"You're lucky," Ginny muttered, stabbing a spoon into the last of her sticky toffee pudding. "You'll be up on the High Table come New Year."

"I'll still see them."

"Yes, but you won't  _hear_  them."

Hermione snorted and pressed her hand to her mouth. "No, no that's true." She poured herself another cup of tea and wrapped her cold fingers around the warmed mug. "Though if they are together, at least they're not doubling the noise with other people."

Ginny smirked. "The  _one_  blessing." She winced as the rather disturbing sucking sound cut through the general and loud chatter around the table.

Hermione waggled her eyebrows. "You can always escape to Luna's table…"

"I can, can't I?" Ginny's brown eyes were devilishly bright. Her gaze slid to the Ravenclaw table, where Luna sat eating her pudding and idly weaving magic through the air with her fingers. Ginny's expression softened and she let out a soft sigh. "She brings me a sense of peace, you know? I finally feel that I can just…breathe when I'm with her."

Hermione did know. In her quiet moments with Severus, it had been simply that. Just…peace.

Ginny put her spoon across her plate and winced at the sudden fierce and slurpy suction emitting from her brother. She frowned at Hermione. " _You_  kissed him?"

She didn't that reminder and shuddered. At least their physical contact had been short-lived. And  _private_. "Never like that."

Ginny laughed and pushed herself away from the table. "That's a relief. Ready to go?"

"More than ready." Hermione clambered over the bench. It was only just after five. Merlin's little green apples, the day was  _dragging_.

* * *

"How's your hunt going?"

Ron lurched out of the shadows of an archway. The thick stink of cheap firewhiskey hung around him, coupled with a sharp stab of Lavender's flowery perfume.

Hermione pulled in a breath. He was hurting. She told herself that every day as she watched him lurch from one war-hero-groupie to the next, always ending back with the ever-accepting Lavender. But it wasn't as if  _she_  had had her life plans crushed too. Even if she hoped something would…progress with Severus,  _soon_ , at the minute, there were no babies in her future. None.

That first image of Severus holding Hope, only weeks old, the look of wonder on his face, caught her again. His long finger stroking a velvet smooth cheek… Shit, she could still feel the swift aching stab in her belly. And now it was a want for  _their_  child.

Her lips pinched together. But, even with her new found hope, Severus could still see her as his friend and his heart, his heart was bound and buried with another witch.

"Not found anyone stupid enough to be up to their eyeballs in nappies for fifteen years?"

"It's not even seven o'clock, Ron. Really, go and sleep it off…"

"It was supposed to be you and me." He banged a fist to his chest, his face mottled red. He stumbled forward and she stepped back. He didn't notice. " _That_  future. Fame and money."

"Money is useful, but I've never wanted fame."

He wasn't listening to her either. "Not… _babies_." He hissed the word and something in Hermione's heart cracked. If she ever got her wish, her friendship with Ron would be truly over. It was already teetering on the very edge… "Why would you want  _babies_?" He glared at her. "Alls they do is shit and puke and squawl. Bleed you dry. Ruin your life." He shook his head. "You were supposed to be  _better than that_. Muggle, not witch. Fuck, all witches ever want is to pop out one brat after another."

The crack in her chest deepened. "That was why you were with me?"

He snorted a laugh. "'Course. Easy sex. No real ties."

Hermione pressed her hand to her mouth to deny a sudden sob. Yes, she'd had her confusion over Severus at the beginning of the summer, but she had  _loved_  Ron at that time. And she thought he'd felt the same. Had she just been an uncomplicated notch? She blinked. Was how he treated Lavender his plan for  _her_? "Get away from me, Ronald Weasley!"

"Mione…?" He held out a damp hand and staggered into the wall.

Something ached in his so-blue eyes. A pain. A loss. If he'd agreed to children, she was now staring at her future. Fights. Drinking. His hating, loathing of their children for a denial of a life he thought he deserved.

"Go to bed, Ron. The drink is talking through you."

He growled, swore and lurched upright. "No one will have you. You're mental to think anyone would put up with you and your rat's nested brats!"

He stumbled off into the shadows of the corridor, swearing and cursing. Hermione sank to the step and fought the need to sob. Minutes bleed away as she stared –sightless— at the wall. Ron was right. No one would want  _her_. Her and her insane plan for a tribe of laughing, screeching little boys and girls…

A cry caught in her throat.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione buried her face in her hands.  _No_. Not him. Not now. Why could he never see her at her best? Why did the infuriating man  _always_  have to find her when she was teetering on the edge of an emotional breakdown?

"Hermione…?"

A sob broke from her then. And why couldn't he be the old Severus Snape? One who'd sneer and take points and never let her live it down? Rather than using his velvet soft voice to give the impression that he  _cared_?

Her thoughts lurched and she dug her fingers into her scalp. She loved this man. And he, he  _did_  care. He was her friend. Her belly turned over and she looked at her watch. Seven thirty. Oh gods. She had  _missed_  meeting him. She scrubbed her fingers and palms over her face and was all too aware that she looked a sight. "I'm so sorry, Severus."

Her gaze darted upwards, nervous. Worried. Did he think that she'd –oh gods— that she'd  _stood him up_? And would he take it as a sign that she wasn't interested?

Hermione shoved down the wild thunder of panic and willed herself to focus. She couldn't read his expression. There was only a sliver of moonlight gilding him, his face was still in shadow.

"Tea," he said, and stepped back. He waved his arm out to the corridor. "If you please?"

Hermione jerked a nod and followed the familiar path to the secret door that opened into his rooms. Had his voice sounded strained? Terse? Or just its the normally quiet smoothness? She couldn't tell. Her thoughts were a mad whirl.

She'd blast Ron with every foul curse she knew if he'd spoilt her chance with Severus. She pressed a hand to her mouth, the memory of Ron's words, his derision, burning across her thoughts again. Bastard.

She'd not once derided his choices. Not once.

The Headmaster was a warm darkness at her back. He pressed a hand to the ancient door and it swung open on silent hinges. He ushered her to the deep, wingback chair she thought of as hers. A few minutes of bustle and she was sitting back with a delicate, bone china cup and breathing in the lightly scented steam of freshly brewed tea.

Seconds ticked by and Severus allowed her to stare into the great hearth at the flickering flames. He knew her well enough to let her gather her thoughts. He didn't push. And for that she was grateful. Even if she'd hoped that their meeting would a world away from this shambles.

"It was Ron." She released a long sigh. "He," she couldn't find it in herself to admit that he was well on his way to being drunk, "he shared his thoughts on my future plans."

"Mr Weasley is spending the rest of his evening with Mr Filch. And will find his nights until the end of next term quite…full." He looked at her over the rim of his cup and her face grew hot. "He staggered past me. Hardly the best example to the younger years."

"Did you hear…?" Hermione pressed her lips together.

Severus winced. "Hermione—"

"He's right, of course. I make plans that would find a better home in the Byzantine court."

"Not that Mr Weasley would make that allusion."

Hermione huffed a laugh. "No. Quite right." She stared into her cup and willed away the tightness in her chest…with little success. "It's like a weight, pressing on me." She pushed a white-knuckled fist to her breastbone. "Every day." Her lips quirked up in a wry smile. "My mother warned me from an early age. The Collier ache, she called it." Her gaze flicked up and met Severus' dark, unjudging gaze. "Her maiden name."

She looked back to her cup. "My mother has five sisters and two brothers. And they all have great  _swathes_  of children. Due to complications when I was born, my mother couldn't have any more children. My parents thought to adopt…but then my magic manifested and they couldn't risk…"

Hermione closed her eyes and counted the slowing, slowing beats of her heart. "That was the hardest memory to bring back. I believe it's why she jumped at your offer. And they're so happy now."

"You are only nineteen, Hermione." His voice was a soft murmur into the silence that followed. "Plans can be adapted. You will have your quidditch team yet."

Another smile tugged at her mouth. An insane thought sparked, and it burned on her tongue to ask if he was offering…

Her smile faded and a stone dropped into her belly. But he  _wasn't_  offering, was he? He'd heard  _everything_. Had he changed his mind about her, about a possible  _them_? Had hearing again that she wanted a horde of children put him off? The reminder he needed. He had Hope, after all.

And there would be no one for her. She could never find  _that_  wizard.

Hermione had no illusions. She knew how others viewed her. As Ron had before they broke up. As he'd just said… Hermione Granger, book-focused, with little time for her looks or children. Too clever. Not…girlish. And she was certain most of her peers would react with Ron's horror to her need. That much was obvious. There'd not been a hint, even a sniff of interest from a wizard in her year. Not one.

Severus was reacting in just the same way, behind his mask of politeness.

Hermione looked to the pale surface of her tea. Well, it was best she know that about him too. Though her silly heart was already tied fast to him.

She held back a sigh. The wizarding world was insular and her pick of wizards was limited. Especially ones who would be willing to father so many.

She sipped her tea, her insides cold. So much hope and possibility had taken her through the day. Now it was all gone. "Who would want me? Who would be willing to walk into such an arrangement?"

Hermione looked at him, allowing herself to indulge in those illicit feelings that had chased her since the summer. The last play of them before she tucked them away forever.

He was tall, lithe…elegant. Firelight flickered over his pale skin. He looked healthier than he ever had, his inky black hair smooth and clean and curling over the collar of his frockcoat.

His hands. Long fingered and strong and for a wild moment she imagined him stroking her jaw and teasing a caress down the column of her throat. The rapid jump in her pulse came with a regretful ache.

Coal-black eyes held hers. Calm. Controlled. And the pain in her heart deepened. She did love the wizard who had come out from under two megalomaniacs.

Severus hadn't answered her question. Did she expect him to? For a long moment, he stared back into his cup and his Adam's apple bobbed. He looked up. "I would."

Hermione blinked. Only a fierce grip on her nerves let her put the cup back down on its saucer with a slight rattle. She sat back and her fingers knotted in her lap. Severus' expression hadn't changed, still thoughtful and calm. His control was incredible. She envied him.

"Is…is that an offer, Severus?"

His lips tipped up at the corners. "A promise. Come the summer, if your plans have not progressed, I offer myself to you in marriage."

Her heart squeezed and her breath caught. A surge of delighted hope raced through her blood, new and fast and hotter than that morning's surge. The quiet statement, so like the man she had come to know in the past few months, spun through her thoughts. Numerous questions bubbled up and one broke free. "Why?"

"I'd given up all hope of having a family." A trace of a smile touched his mouth. "Though I do have  _Hope_." He put his cup down and straightened in his chair. "Marriage to me would not interfere with your apprenticeship to Septima. And we are…companionable, are we not?"

 _Companionable_.

The single word was a stab to her heart. Was this simply a…favour?

"Could you honestly see yourself with so many children?"

His firm lips quirked upwards and the idea of kissing him hurtled into her brain. It was her only thought. What would be taste like…? Was he a  _good_  kisser? She wrenched her wayward thoughts back. He was offering  _companionship_. Even in her mind, the word spat with bitterness.

"I can and I would aim to be a better man than my father." Anger flickered briefly in his eyes. "Not a great stretch. But I want to be honest and fair."

Severus wet his lips and brought Hermione's traitorous thoughts back to kissing. "I could show little goodwill towards any of my pupils whilst I was a spy." He glanced around the shadowed arches of his sitting room. "And this school demands discipline. Hundreds of wild, hormonal children with magic, a wand, and without two sensible thoughts to rub together in their empty little skulls? Without a firm hand, it would be a disaster."

Hermione gave him a mock glare. "We're not all a rampage of stupidity."

He lifted an eyebrow and humour shone in his dark eyes. "I will allow one or two exceptions. Miss Lovegood, for example."

Hermione's eyebrow matched his and her mouth thinned. " _Luna?_ "

"She is a credit to her House."

Something stirred in Hermione's chest and it felt uncomfortably like jealousy. Her fingers laced together and she fought not to knot them. It didn't concern her that the Headmaster thought so highly of Luna Lovegood.

His smile had deepened and she didn't want to see how it lit his endless eyes. "Of course, I no longer consider you a pupil here, Hermione."

He was  _teasing_  her.

Hermione bit her bottom lip. She wanted to fall into this. To agree to marry him. To bind her life to him. But the thought of it being one sided was abhorrent. She lifted an eyebrow. "Then I have more than two sensible thoughts to rub together?"

"Oh, five at least."

His soft laughter transformed his face. Her heart turned over, her mouth drying. Merlin, help her, he was beautiful. And damn it, she wanted to be selfish. She loved him. She would adore their children. She would have his friendship. It would be enough. It would.  _It would._

"Yes."

His laughter died away. "Hermione?"

"I accept your offer of marriage."

His mouth opened and no words came out. She had made Severus Snape speechless. He closed his mouth and rubbed his hands together, before dropping down into the opposite chair. "There are still seven months until the end of the school year. You could easily find…"

"I know every boy here. And they know me. Possibly." She winced. "Not really." She let out a long breath and willed herself to give him a way out. Her heart was a stone in her chest as she asked, "I want you to be sure."

"I am."

A spiral of magic swirled between them, the gleaming gold of a ful and binding betrothal spell. It skittered cool and swift over her skin, wrapping around her fingers, before sweeping over her chest…and she gasped as it rose to flash over her face. Her heart drummed. She breathed quickly, willing her pulse to slow to control the panic that edged her nerves.

"Unexpected," Severus murmured and there was a quickness to the word and his cheeks were flushed. He stretched his fingers and a spark of magic flared. "It seems we've come to an agreement."

The betrothal spell proved they were both sincere in their wish to marry. Hermione had researched all aspects of wizarding marriage and they had entered into a binding wizarding oath. Only an application to the Office of Magical Births, Deaths and Marriages could undo the spell. But she didn't want that. Not for one second.

She drew in a breath and a lightness filled her. The weight on her chest had vanished. Completely. Finally, she could  _breathe_. She grinned at him and he blinked. "It  _is_  a little shocking."

She shook her head. Practical. She was practical Hermione Granger. She cursed the fact she didn't have her binder with her, every note listed and cross-referenced. She lifted her chin and saw the spark of amusement flicker across Severus' face.

"Ask your questions…Hermione."

"How…?" He knew her. Had  _taught_  her. Of course he knew she'd have a ream of questions. "Where would be live?

"Hogwarts will provide." He sat back and steepled his fingers at his mouth. "I would like to keep that as a…surprise."

Her belly did a little flip. At his answer, or the gleam of his eyes and the elegant lean of his body, she didn't know. It didn't help with her next question. "Do you wish to…become intimate before we're married?" Her lips pressed together hard and the brief flare of pain fixed her thoughts. Her inexperience grated. "I have not…" Her face burned and she was relieved to find a hint of pink topping Severus' high cheekbones. "Ron and I broke up before it went that far."

"I want to court you, Hermione. And whilst to others that would involve sex, I wish to wait."

 _That_  voice softly murmuring the word 'sex' deepened the heat in her cheeks. Want thrummed through her flesh. Desiring her husband would not be a problem. But was it for him? She knew about Lily Evans. It quickly stabbed at her that she would never have this man's heart.

"Hermione?"

She looked to him and worked a brief smile. "I understand." Was it tradition, his honour that made him want to wait? The idea of his not truly wanting her chased away every scrap of joy. Pained words broke from her. "This isn't…obligation, is it, Severus?"

"What? No!"

The vehemence of his reply eased away the tightness in her chest. Severus knelt before her and took her cold hands in his. "I admit, that offering marriage was not my intention tonight. But seeing your dispair... I couldn't stop myself." He huffed a soft laugh, but he squeezed her fingers as she looked away from him. "No, tonight was meant to go...differently."

He brought her hands to his mouth and dropped kisses to her fingers. Her heart pounded and she stared at him, her breath caught.

"I want you, Hermione. I have since the summer."

Hermione wet dried lips. "You  _have_?"

His fingers caressed her jaw, a feather-light touch that caused her eyelids to flutter shut. The bliss of it. Sweet and golden.

The first brush of his lips broke a gasp from her. Light. Warm. The hint of his breath, of the taste of his skin. Wanted. All of it wanted. Needed… And she chased after his touch as he drew back, a mewl of protest making him grin. Obsidian eyes glinted. Oh, this wizard was a  _tease_.

His thumb pressed against her bottom lip, that black gaze fixing there before meeting her eyes. "I promise," his voice was heat and velvet, "I will  _never_  leave you wanting, Hermione."

Her own nervous fingers stroked along the sharp edge of his jaw. Smooth and soft. He'd shaved for her… "Severus, gods."

And then she was kissing him, her fingers threaded in his hair, wanting him closer, wanting more. Cursing her clothes —a tight skirt that trapped her knees and didn't allow her to press herself close—

"Hermione!"

His hands were firm on her shoulders and he was pushing her back. His hair was a mess. His mouth plumped, face pinked and his chest lifting with quick breaths. He looked…delicious.

"Did you just growl at me?"

Had she? Oh gods, she  _had_. Her head dipped. How to look like the immature nineteen year old she so obviously was by behaving no better than Ronald Weasley and all but tackling him to the floor. She winced, her gaze caught on the strained seams of her skirt…

"Severus, I'm sorry, I just…" Her shoulders slumped and Severus' hands eased away

"Then I take it the interest is…mutual?"

Hermione blinked. Did he think she was using him to gain a clutch of babies? "Of course it is!" She groaned. "Oh, I could happily curse Ron Weasley. He made a mess of my night. And this too."

She drew a snaking line between the buttons of his frockcoat, his body heat there, tantalisingly under her fingertip. Severus watched her with narrowed eyes.

"Though…would I have had the chance to kiss you quite so quickly? Possibly not. So I win." She leant forward and dropped another kiss on his softly parted lips, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out on a happy sigh. "For the record. I want to marry you and I will happily adore you and all our children. I think that's quite clear now, isn't it?"

Severus stared at her. " _Adore_ …?"

And then he was kissing her again. For quite some time.

* * *

Oh dear, now our impulsive couple have to tell everyone...


	11. Chapter 11

I know it's so very fluffy. But everything else is so crappy in the world right now -esp the UK- I wish to bask in fluff. So here it is...

* * *

Hermione stepped out of Severus' embrace. The relative warm of a Kentish winter wrapped around her, but still she shivered. She smiled up at him. Something tight and nervous. Her time at Hogwarts as one its pupils had ended. In the new year, she would return as Septima Vector's apprentice…and the Headmaster's fiancée.

It still seemed completely wild. Totally—

"Hermione." Severus' voice was smooth and sure and he cupped her cold cheek. She leant into his touch and willed herself to breathe. His touch —his _affection_ — was addictive. "Everything will be fine. Your father will bluster. And frown. And glare. And mutter. Your mother will inappropriately explode…but it will all be fine."

She grinned. "Also the bind is fixed." Her grin sharpened into a smirk. "I have you now, Severus Snape."

"Indeed you do."

His voice was a velvet rumble, warming through her. So right and wanted, she was already stretching up onto her toes to meet his dipping mouth—

The crack of an appearing elf broke them apart. "Tori is to be telling The Snape and Miss, that everyone is in the West Room." And with a stare and a bow, she cracked away again.

"The Snape." Hermione slid her hand into his and squeezed his gloved fingers. She tugged him towards the main doors. "The elves adore you."

"I'm sure it will be _very_ interesting as they work out what to call you in the summer."

Hermione blinked up at him as he opened the door and ushered her into the warmth of the entrance hall. What would they call her? What would she call _herself_? With Ron, she didn't want to get lost in being yet another Mrs Weasley... But with Severus-

"Whatever name you want for yourself is your decision, Hermione. Snape is a difficult name to wear."

His mouth tugged down at the corner, his gaze shuttering and she wanted to smooth it away. And with a start, she realised she could. She was _allowed_. So she did, tracing warm fingers over his cheek. She smiled and stepped in close. Her decision was easy.

"Our children will wear it. I will wear it. With _pride_ , Severus."

She squeaked at the sudden tight hug that swept her into his arms. He buried his face against her escaping hair and seemed to breathe her in. Gods, it was a little moment of bliss to be held so tightly. By _him_. His scent, his warmth, his _wanting_ her, all of it wrapped around her. It was Christmas come early—

A cough broke them apart. Hermione groaned. It was their day to be interrupted it seemed and she reluctantly unwrapped herself from his delicious hold…and reddened.

Her mother was grinning at her, a smile wider than a deranged clabbert. And her father…her father was a rather interesting shade of puce. So much for breaking it to them with ease and calmness.

Severus' hand found hers, offering his strength and support. "Good afternoon," his voice was smooth and rich, "and I believe we have some news to share."

Her mother squealed and a snort of laughter escaped Hermione.

"This is not in any way funny!" Her father gritted his teeth. "I trusted you with my daughter, Severus. Is this what you wizards do? Groom the best for yourselves? _Is it_?"

Severus stiffened at her side, even as Hermione's own anger boiled. A moment later, her palm was stinging and she was being pulled back from slapping her father into strong, safe arms. She buried her face against Severus' frockcoat and fought down the hard ache in her chest, caught in her need to sob out her anger and frustration.

That her father could think that. Could _say_ that. When he _knew_ Severus. Knew how hard he worked to keep everyone safe…

"Sh-h-h…" Severus' warm breath brushed against her ear. "He didn't mean it. You're his little girl. I would be proud to call myself half as good a father as yours is, Hermione." The curve of a smile touched her skin. "And can you imagine how I will be should some vacuous male approach _me_ with designs on _my_ daughter?"

Hermione hiccoughed a laugh against his chest. "Our poor, boyfriend-less girls."

"Indeed."

"Hermione…?"

Severus drew back and Hermione reluctantly turned to her father. His hair was sticking up, raked by his fingers, and his cheeks were now the mottled pink of embarrassment rather than anger. Though the sharper red of her palm and finger print against his cheek made her wince.

"Sorry, Dad."

"Me too."

And she was enveloped in another hug, this time by her dad and the pain in her chest fading to nothing. She stepped back and looked to her mother, who still had the flush of a no doubt 'stern word' on her face and neck. But it still wasn't over. That they were a couple had been understood. That they were _betrothed_ had not.

"You should know…" Severus stepped up behind Hermione and took her hand. He gave a comforting squeeze. "We've made plans. For the summer. Permanent plans."

Severus drew her to him. "We have entered into a magical betrothal bond and will marry in the summer."

Her father's jaw dropped. "Christ, you're not messing about are you? _Either_ of you."

Gwendolyn smacked his arm and grinned at them. She clapped her hands. "Excellent. About time."

"Gwen…" Edward's voice was strangled.

She slid her husband a dark look. "I married _you_ within three weeks of meeting you." She lifted an eyebrow. "You are _nineteen_ years older than me. I was still at university. You were one of my supervising clinicians at the Dental Hospital…" Her mouth pursed. Need I go on?"

Edward scrubbed his hands over his face and muttered, "Bloody Collier women." He narrowed his eyes on Severus. "Merlin help you, that's all I can say." He turned on his heel. "I need tea."

And he was gone.

Hermione winced. "Should I…?"

"I will deal with him." Gwendolyn suddenly grinned and hugged both of them, hard. Severus grunted. "Congratulations! As I said, about time." Sharp eyes fixed them both. "Now who can I tell? And how soon? Have you fixed a date? Will you get married at the school? Or here?"

Severus' mouth brushed her ear. "Now I see where you get it from."

Hermione hushed him. "We want it kept quiet for now. We both have others to tell first."

Gwendolyn pulled a face and huffed out a breath. She grabbed Hermione's hand. "Then come and meet Joshua! Did I mention how good he smells?"

Laughing, Hermione allowed herself to be dragged away, with an eye-rolling Severus in her wake.

* * *

Hermione found Severus in the little snug he favoured in the eastern wing of the Hall. Lamps lit the darkened space, washing over book-lined walls filled with her father's love of science fiction and her mother's devotion to crime and spies. This was their hideaway too. Hints of Christmas, tinsel and holly sprigs, ornaments she recognised from her childhood decorated the shelves and mantle.

The fire snapped and spat, curls of grey smoke twisting between the bright flames, the sweet scent of hickory mixing with the smell of books and furniture polish.

Severus lounged in one of the two wingback chairs, his toes toasting on the fender and his nose in an Agatha Christie. Hermione smiled. She did so love to see this private man. A secret only she was privy too.

Dark eyes fixed on her over the top of the book. He lifted an eyebrow. "Yes, Hermione?"

Her belly did a little flip-curl of pleasure. There was a dark undercurrent, a teasing, a promise in his look, in that simple question. Was it bad that she wanted to fling herself at him? Straddle him… That seat was _quite_ wide. She was certain, it'd be easy—

"Impure thoughts…" Severus shook his head. "Such a naughty girl."

Heat flashed through Hermione, quick and unexpected and a gasp broke from her. It'd felt as if a sun had burst through her flesh and zapped her legs to jelly. Gods… What…what _was_ that? Had his words…? Had _they_ done that? His delicious voice and the hope, the desire of him saying…what? The thought bubbled up that he could simply talk her into an orgasm… And _that_ idea flashed yet more heat into her face.

Severus raised an eyebrow and his dark eyes were hot and wicked. "I see." He put his book to the side. "Did you hunt me down for a reason, Hermione?"

"I…" She flopped into the opposite chair and pressed her hands to her knees to stop her wringing them together. Her reaction had thrown her. And she had to wait until the summer… No, back to the reason she'd looked for him. "We, didn't talk much yesterday."

"No, we didn't, did we?"

Oh that wasn't helping. That smirk and his sitting back in his chair, devilishly smug. And they hadn't talked. Not even a little. Severus had escorted her back to Gryffindor Tower, mussed and _very_ thoroughly kissed at nine.

Hermione pulled her shrunken binder from her pocket, waved her wand over it and let its weight settle on her lap. In idle moments, since the half term she had overhauled it, with the –then vain— hope of planning it for Severus. She had a whole new list of names. Ron had been totally eradicated. That had been a pleasure in itself.

Severus had lifted both eyebrows.

"I like to plan."

"I can see that."

Her fingers pressed against the thick card of the binder and her nerves stretched and pinched. "Is it too much? This is who I am, Severus. I will plan to the minute. If no one stops me, to the second. I would like…"

Her eyes fixed on the cover, seeing the familiar pits and scrapes. It had been with her so long. Since Fourth Year. Building up paged after page with knowledge and hope. It and her apprenticeship scroll had kept her sane in that so-hated bloody tent.

Now she was putting it all before the man she loved. The man who would father the children for whom she ached.

She willed out the words. Severus knew she wanted children. Had agreed… "I would like to have seven children."

His silence washed over her.

_Silence_. He was silent. Did that mean…? _Was_ it too much? Was the five he had always known about his limit? Had she ballsed everything up…? _Again_?

"Hermione."

Severus stretched out to put his long, warm fingers over hers. She looked up and her heart turned over at the warmth, the affection, the love in his endlessly dark eyes.

"Whatever is in there…I want. Understand that. _All of it_. And," a slow smiled lifted his lips, "that I am _honoured_."

Hermione bit her lip and sniffed, determined not to cry all over him again that day. "I'm going to hug you again. In fact, I'm going to sit on your lap and kiss you till dinner. If that suits?"

Severus sat back and patted his leg. "Oh, it does indeed."

He grunted as his arms were suddenly filled with his little, kissing witch.

* * *

Pil popped into the little snug, quiet and quick.

Mistress Gwendolyn liked him nice and quiet in the Hall so as not to disturb the sweet little wizard-born. And so as not to be giving her a…myocardial infarction. Whatever that was.

But then he'd always been told that muggles, even parents of famous muggle-borns, had a language all to themselves. He would live with it. He was _very_ proud to be Granger Hall elf.

With a squeak, Pil covered his eyes and vanished back to the kitchen.

Yes, he had to be learning that he must now cover his eyes when he was seeing to fetch The Snape and The Snape's Miss to his new masters.

* * *

Let me know what you think! :)


	12. Chapter 12

A/N. Fred is alive for this fic :)

* * *

They apparated into the frosty little park in the centre of Grimmauld Place. Hermione shivered, though London wasn't any colder than Kent. It was a nervous reaction. She knew it.

Christmas Eve with the rest of the Order. That was in no way intimidating. She smiled up at Severus as his gloved hand slipped into hers and he pulled her back into his arms. She snuggled close, enjoying his warmth, his familiar scent, of cedar and herbs and simply…him. With every one of her slow breaths, it eased some of her anxiety.

She smiled as he pressed a kiss to her only slightly tamed hair. "We don't have to say anything about us. You can enjoy the night with your friends."

A tightness curled in her belly. They were both well aware that their betrothal would not go down well. The coolness of her father proved that. Their being together  _at all_  would be seen as bad enough in the wizarding world. It was easier to pick who they told, and to tell that person quietly…and with protecting shields firmly in place.

"If the chance comes, I'll take it. I'm not ashamed of you." She pressed her chin to his chest and smirked up at him. "You are the very best of men, Severus Snape."

A touch of a smile pulled at his mouth, but his eyes were warm. "And you are quite,  _quite_  mad, Hermione Granger." He dropped a kiss to her forehead. "And a cold witch too. Let's get you inside."

They crossed the silent road, her hand firmly in his. The early evening was cold and dark and white frost limned railings, leaves and window ledges. The buzz of traffic, of the city was dulled and somewhere at the far end of the Square —Hermione's lips twitched— was the thankfully muted cries of Noddy Holder.

Severus released her hand at the bottom of the steps and waved for her to precede him. Why was her life so complicated? Her smile deepened. Because it always had been. And it had her wrapping her life up with a man who was simply perfect for her. So she was not about to complain. Not for a single second.

Hermione rapped the doorknocker and the muffled and magically enhanced, "It's open" drifted out. Taking a breath, and with an eye roll back at Severus, Hermione pushed her way inside.

The lobby was empty of people, but it was chaos all the same. Little Father Christmases zoomed along the narrow hallway, a wild sleigh race that ended with three reindeer tangled in the banisters and an irate Father Christmas squeaking his outrage. Music clashed in different rooms, something festive fighting in the air against a riotous Weird Sisters anthem and some distinctly off-key singing. The rich odours of roast beef and spices and cake almost dizzied Hermione's already stretched senses.

But for Severus at her back, his hand on her shoulder and giving a comforting squeeze, she would've turned right around and disapparated back to Kent.

"It's hideous. Loud. Raucous." Severus' voice was at her ear, the only balm in the madness. "But the house is alive. Cheered." His lips curved against her skin and a sweet little shiver chased through her flesh. "Of course, if anyone attempts to draw  _me_  into any of this foul festive cheer, I will hex them into the New Year."

"Quite right too." She turned her head and pecked a kiss from his lips.

The shatter of a glass against tiles broke Hermione's mouth from his. Her heart leapt to her throat. Who had seen…?

Professor McGonagall stared, open mouthed at them. With a flick of his wand, Severus silenced her. Hermione stared at him.

"She tends to become…shrill."

He strode forward and bundled his colleague into the angled storage cupboard under the stairs. Hermione followed, closing the door behind her and warding it. Magical light flicked on over their heads, revealing a line of brooms, cloaks and winter boots running down either sloping wall.

Professor McGonagall was glaring at them, her glasses sharp bright circles and her foot tapping —hard. Her lips pinched and a huff broke from her when Severus released the silencing spell.

"I should turn you into a rat, a toad, a slug!"

Her wand was out, and pointed unerringly at Severus' chest. His hand caught Hermione's as she tried to lurch in front of him. "And why is that, Minerva?" His voice was calm and cool and it only seemed to infuriate the older witch.

"You've taken advantage of a student! A  _student_ , Severus." Her gnarled hand found her forehead, fingers digging into her temple. "Have you no shame?"

"Shame?" He shrugged. "No."

Hermione wanted to pinch him. There was still that bit of him, for all the calm quiet that he now had, that still loved to rile, to dance on someone's last nerve. Doing so to an armed and angry witch didn't seem the best of times.

McGonagall's cheeks flushed. "The Board—"

"Hermione is an Apprentice. Not a student, Minerva. There is nothing in the bylaws that states a professor cannot carry on with—"

" _Carry on!_ "

Hermione groaned. She stepped forward. Severus had had his fun. Carry on, indeed… "Professor McGonagall—"

"And you, Miss Granger, I would've thought that you would have more sense than to throw yourself at—"

The professor's voice vanished. " _Enough_." Severus' own voice was a low and angry growl. "You may say what you will to me, but not to her. Is that understood, Minerva?"

He leaned in and magic was a dark and pulsing aura around him. He was so…powerful. And Hermione's heart did not give a little excited skip. It  _didn't_...

"Hermione is my  _betrothed_. We are to marry in the summer. This is not an…idle dalliance on either of our parts. Is that  _also_  understood?"

He slashed his wand, breaking the silencing spell, but the professor was simply staring, until the single word " _Betrothed_?" escaped her. She looked from Severus to Hermione and back again. "You are…?" She stepped back, pressing into the line of cloaks. Her shoulders slumping as her wand arm dropped. "Who else knows?"

"My parents. And you." Hermione unwarded the door. She peeked out to see if the shadowy hall was empty of people and opened the door wide. "I think you need a drink, Professor."

"Minerva. Call me, Minerva, since as Severus has pointed out, you are a Hogwarts apprentice."

The words seemed litte more than rote. Something said for the sake of speaking. Minerva –and Hermione struggled with the name— was pale with only two spots of bright red high on her cheeks. The older witch was obviously still in a deep shook. The formal dining room was just across the way, and with a brief smile at Severus, Hermione darted into the room.

Hermione hit a wall of sound, the music blaring, a loud base and raucous lyrics. The long table was piled with heaps of food and bottles of every wizarding alcohol imaginable. Harry was not stinting on his first Christmas bash. The room was also crowded with Weasley offspring, who cried out at her arrival and she was swept up into arms and crushed against chests that reeked of elf-wine and whisky.

"Mione!" Fred and George planted a kiss on either cheek. "We hear you've thrown over our idiot brother."

George smirked at her. "Are you available for another brother—

"—or two?" Fred leered at her.

"No, thank you." She stepped back and poured a generous slug of single malt into a tumbler. "This is for Minerva."

And she escaped the room, happy to shut the door on the chaos and being manhandled by the drunken twins.

She pressed the glass into the older witch's hand and moved in close to Severus, needing his calm. Minerva seemed more at ease. No doubt she had tore a strip from Severus when Hermione had gone for the drink, but whatever had been said seemed to have eased the tension between the two old colleagues.

The itch to know pushed under Hermione's skin, but she could hardly ask.

Minerva sipped at her whisky and released a slow breath. A smile lifted her lips as she stared into the glass of amber liquid. "Glenfiddich. A good choice." She looked between them. "I will admit, I was — _am_ — shocked…but," she held up a finger and her blue eyes sparkled, "you will fit well together. You're both clever and hard working and committed. And loyal." Her gaze flitted across Severus, something moving there, before she looked back to Hermione. "So very loyal. Never forget that.

"Now, if you'll excuse me?" And Minerva slugged back her whisky, handed the glass to Severus and disappeared down the stairs into the kitchen.

Hermione frowned. "What was that about?" She looked up at her fiancé. "What did you say to her, Severus?"

He vanished the glass and tucked a stray tendril back, a curl of magic chasing it back into the loose updo. "I simply shared our plans." He pushed through the first button of her cloak. "Are you quite warm now?"

The innocent question rioted through her, as did the continuing slow slide of his hands down over her chest. Always proper. Never brushing or touching where they shouldn't…but still.  _He was undressing her._  She almost swayed, the fierce ache in her flesh, hot and tight…

"What would you like, little witch?"

Oh, that so-quiet question was wicked when he'd said they would wait until their wedding night…

"There is an empty cupboard. Right there."

Severus lifted an eyebrow. "Is there?"

"And I have no wish to mingle."

The door opened behind him and Hermione put her hand in the middle of his chest. His heart thudded under her touch, matching the hurried beat of her own.

"You wish to hang up your cloak instead?" His low voice was innocence itself, but there was a burn in the darkness of his eyes. A fire just for her. Gods. Seven months.  _Seven_. At this rate, she wouldn't last seven  _days_ …

The door shut behind her and her wards stretched over it, fierce and strong and thick with silencing spells. Hermione pressed herself up against him and pressed her hand to the smooth paleness of his jaw, before allowing her fingers to slid into the soft, black silk of his hair. His eyelids fluttered under her slow caress and she almost groaned.

His mouth was already dipping to hers, his arms urging her close. The first tease of his breath, his lips, the brush of warmth, the retreat, and then back, more sure, deeper… Gods, he was  _delicious_.

Her hand fisted in his hair and he moaned against her lips. No, she would never forget the privilege she had with Severus Snape being her wizard.

 _Never_.

* * *

And another person told. I may go back to this night at the party. I'm undecided. I planned to end it differently, but then Hermione pushed Severus into a cupboard... *shrug*


	13. Chapter 13

* * *

Chapter 14 might be a bit late. I have a lot on next week. This fic is still moving on :)

* * *

That bloody witch kept _touching_ him. Hermione ground her teeth in a way her parents would not approve…and there, she was doing it _again_. A fake little laugh that scraped down Hermione's nerves, and the touch –a sly stroke of thin fingers over the crease of Severus' elbow.

Wasn't she Kingsley's guest? Shouldn't she be keeping her stupidly thin fingers to herself, or better yet, pawing Kingsley, not _her_ wizard?

Severus swapped his drink to his other hand, and the witch-touched arm was now safe from her, held behind his back, his hand curled into a fist.

Hermione took a gulp of elf-wine and willed her anger down. The drawing room was crowded and hot. Loud laughter and the thump of music jumped on her last remaining nerve. They were mingling after a rather indecent amount of time spent in the under-stairs cupboard. And Hermione could hardly bound over and slap the woman, no matter how hard it burned in her fingers.

Severus Snape was a war hero, Headmaster of Hogwarts, a brilliant Potions Master, an insanely powerful wizard… Hermione half-expected _Witch Weekly_ to bring out a 'Most Eligible Wizard 1999' edition in the New Year, and he would be in the top two. Fighting for a place with the completely oblivious —and equally unavailable— Harry Potter—

"Mione…"

Hermione's eyes slid shut. Just for a moment. Fuck. Not him. Not now.

She pinched a smile. "Hi, Ron." Her gaze darted behind him, hunting the press of people… _There_. Lavender caught her eye. Hermione tilted her head, hoping the witch understood her meaning. "Crazy in here, isn't it?"

"No one with you?" His blue gaze slid to Snape. The witch was sidling in close. She'd have him shoved up against the bookcase soon. Then Hermione would have to hex the legs out from under her. "Though Snape is here."

"Professor or Headmaster Snape."

Ron rolled his eyes and slugged back whatever was in his mug. It left froth on his upper lip. He leaned in and the sour stink of hops washed over her. "He won't look at you, you know."

Hermione worked a frown over her mouth. "Who?"

" _Snape_." He bit out the name, a sneer on his face. He took another gulp of his beer. "I don't see him agreeing to kids, do you? I mean, he has his _squibs_. And would he really shit where he eats?" He huffed a sour laugh. "So, you're not thinking of spitting out a fistful of kids, if you get the chance to knock boots with the Greasy Dungeon Bat?"

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. "Ron…" She let out a sigh. "We split up. You're with Lavender. You don't have to think for one minute about my future. You have your own to carve out."

Ron stiffened and glared at her. "It's all so fucking _easy_ for you!" It was little more than a hiss, before he spun on his heel and lurched back into the crowd.

She leant back against the sideboard and sipped at her wine, letting her heart slow, ease back into a normal rhythm. She ran her fingers over her hair. Gods, Ron would go completely mental when he finally learned the truth about her and Severus.

"Hermione."

And now she had Lavender to contend with. Wonderful. Hermione twitched a smile. "Ron went off that way."

"I know. Charlie cornered him. He's taking him for a walk outside." Lavender's shrugged. "Maybe beat some sense into his thick skull."

They'd never been friends. Not really. Lack of common interests meant they rarely talked. And the only thing, person, they _did_ share an interest in –namely Ronald Bilius Weasley— had caused yet more friction. But this woman would now be in her friend's life. And Hermione did want to be friends again with Ron. One day. Perhaps.

"I wish you all the best with him, Lavender. I truly do."

The younger witch stared into her glass. Something fizzed and smoked and the ripe scent of raspberries clouded over it. "You broke his heart, you know." She glanced up, her expression tight, serious. "He had this dream." She hand swept through the air. "Fame and wealth and glory."

Hermione's chest was tight. "He can still have that."

"I think…" Lavender's bright lips pursed. "I think he lacks the confidence. The belief is there, that without you – _the_ Hermione Granger— beside him, he will fail."

Anger stirred hot and quick in Hermione's belly, pushing aside the quick spike of guilt. Was that his reasoning? Was she meant to be a…a crutch, a prop for him for the _rest of his life_?

"Then it's better that we did break up."

A wry smile pulled at Lavender's mouth. "I'm hardly going to disagree."

Hermione huffed a laugh. "No, I suppose not."

"Ron is also wrong. About his abilities." Lavender lifted pale eyebrows. "And about you and the Headmaster. Professor Snape watched you every second Ron was ranting." Her eyes grew wicked. "And he glared at Ron enough to scorch him to a crisp when he lumbered off."

Hermione hoped her face wasn't red, but her belly gave nervous little flip-flops. Merlin, who else had noticed? Would she have any number of Weasleys and gods, _Harry_ , descending on her demanding to know what was going on?

"And of course _you_ were glaring at that Welsh touchy-feely witch standing next to the Headmaster…" Lavender smirked. "Hermione Granger." She leant in in a cloud of raspberry and jasmine scented air, and her grin became conspiratorial. "You are such a _naughty_ witch. I completely approve."

Lavender drew back before Hermione could formulate a reply. When all that she could do was blink. "You'll be good together." She clinked her glass against Hermione's. "To us and the wizards we need…and who need us." Her mouth twisted. "More than they will ever know."

"Good luck with him, Lavender." Hermione tapped her glass against the other witch's in her own salute. "Make him the best he can be."

Lavender's returning smile was bright and genuine. "That's my plan."

Nervousness clenched in Hermione's chest. Her old roommate did love her gossip. "Please, don't share…"

"Enjoy your secret." Lavender's gaze slid over Severus, cool and assessing. "Fit, lean, powerful and _dark_. Merlin, I bet he's a demon fuck."

Hermione spluttered her drink, hastily wiping the wine from her chin, only to find Lavender grinning at her. "Gods, Lavender…" But she couldn't help but meet her smile, to join her in laughter. It was strange to find herself bonding with the witch.

Lavender patted her arm. "I will find Ron and…console him."

"More information that I wanted to know."

"I live to share!" And Lavender sashayed into the crowd with more than one set of male eyes watching her swaying hips. Ron was in good hands, or alternatively, wouldn't know what hit him. Hermione suspected both.

She looked to Severus…and found that witch far, _far_ too close. Practically pressing up against him, whilst Severus wore his worst scowl. The like of which Hermione hadn't since Sixth Year. Yet still, the persistent witch, smiled and stroked the stem of her wine glass and fluttered her eyelashes. Hermione pursed her lips. Kingsley had gone, abandoned Severus to the harpy –she scanned the room— the Minister had been waylaid by Arthur, two drinks in his hands.

Hermione couldn't claim Severus. Though the idea of sauntering over, slipping her fingers into his silky hair and kissing the life out of him was so very tempting… But she could be herself. Or the image everyone had of her. The overly keen and bossy bookworm.

"Headmaster."

Severus dark gaze was on her. And was that a hint of relief, quickly masked? "Miss Granger." He nodded. "May I introduce Potions Master Ceridwen Pugh? Master Pugh, Miss Hermione Granger. Miss Granger is an Arithmancy Apprentice at Hogwarts."

Ceridwen was a tall, darkly beautiful witch, all smooth elegance and oozing confidence. "Congratulations, Miss Granger." A cool, shuttered gaze slid away and fixed on Severus. Her voice was soft and low, with just a hint of an accent. More than simply her Welsh one. Where had this witch sat out Voldemort's threat? Ceridwen pressed her hand to Severus's chest. "And congratulations to you, Severus. It's been too long since Hogwarts was properly staffed."

"There was a war." Hermione gave the witch a snippy little smile.

"I am aware of that, Miss Granger."

"The decision was taken in 1970 -I believe, wasn't it, Headmaster?- to suspend the taking of Apprentices."

She took a sip of her wine and ploughed on, her voice edged with condescension and she made sure of it, a sharp, grating quality. She didn't miss the other witch's shiver. That tone –as Harry and Ron was well aware— equalled nails on a chalkboard. It had forced them to retreat, panicked and desperate, more than once.

"As you are also no doubt aware, Master Pugh, with upheaval and insecurity clouding our world, the focus was more on a desperate holding of what we have. With little thought beyond it." She pursed her lips, secretly enjoying the other witch's tightened fingers around her glass. Any harder grip and the glass would shatter. "Perhaps not the _wisest_ choice, as how many Masters did Hogwarts lose, but I am happy to be the first to begin this honoured tradition once again."

Hermione snagged a little petit four from a hovering tray —found it lacking in Weasley-twin magic— and took a delicate little bite. She waved the half-eaten cake at the blinking witch, one who'd retracted her hand from Severus' chest.

Was Ceridwen aware that she'd taken a half step back, that Hermione herself was now closer to Severus and almost blocking his body from her touch?

"And of course, I won't be the last. There are some truly gifted students in the lower years. If you have the time now –and I'm sure you do, it's only just after eleven and the night is young— I must recommend one girl to you –a Third Year— truly gifted at Potions—"

Ceridwen forced a smile and pointed behind her. "I think Kingsley was looking for me."

And with a darting look at Severus, the witch vanished.

"Oh very will done, Miss Granger." His low whisper was dark silk and warmed her down to the bone.

Hermione turned on her heel to smirk up at him. "She was touching you. It was either _that_ …or hex her into a puddle."

"Either would have satisfied me."

The strain of the moment -of the whole night- caught Hermione and she wanted nothing more to wrap her arms around him, to snuggle against his warmth and comfort. But she couldn't. That denial ached under her heart. "Can we leave now?"

He frowned and his hand twitched. Yes, he wanted to touch her…and was denying himself that right. "Are you well? What did Mr Weasley say to you?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not here. And I'm tired. It feels as if we've been in this house for _days_."

"I'm more than happy to leave."

He banished their glasses, but it took a little time to escape as they were waylaid by Hermione's drunken friends. His hand at her spine, warm and simply…there encouraged her to move. She wanted quiet time with her wizard.

And then they were in the chill of the night. Hermione wrapped a warming spell around Severus as they trotted down the steps to the flagged pavement. She knew how a chill could bite down into his bones now. His gaze slid to her, but it wasn't a sneer, not completely. There was a hint of affection, of pleasure at her thoughtfulness.

He took her hand and they crossed the road to the small, frosted square. A moment later, she was wrapped in his arms, his cold cheek against the increasing tangle of her hair, and Hermione let herself sink into his touch. It was a relief after the strain of the party, short as it was.

"Let's go home."

* * *

The distant sound of church bells chiming midnight broke into the warm and cosy silence of the snug. The fire flickered a golden glow, the hazy scent of hickory wrapping around her, safe and wanted and mixed with the perfection of Severus' arms as she sat on his lap and a mug of hot chocolate.

Hermione let out a soft sigh and rested her head against Severus' shoulder, enjoying the slow, teasing strokes of his fingers through the wildness of her unbound hair. "This is so much better." She pressed her lips to the underside of his jaw. "No witches pawing you."

Severus's mouth twitched into a smile. "Thank you for rescuing me." He turned his face to hers. "What did Mr Weasley and Miss Brown say to you?"

Hermione shrugged and took another sip of her hot chocolate. "Ron is insecure. Lavender will sort him out."

"He will not take us well."

"Probably not. But I don't plan to live my life pandering to Ronald Weasley's immature sensibilities."

Severus chuckled softly. "At times, you sound worrying like myself."

Hermione smirked at him. "I try."

"Hermione. Since it's now officially Christmas morning…"

His free hand, dipped into waistcoat pocket and pulled out a velvet box, much larger than the pocket would allow. The thought that he had expansion charms on his clothing was intriguing…until she saw that the box was open. And that on the bed of ivory silk, sat a ring.

Its green facets gleamed in the firelight. Too deep and clear to be an emerald… "A Gaia stone?"

"My know-it-all," Severus murmured. "A betrothal ring. But also an offering of harmony between us and a connection for you to the depths of the Earth, to nature's power." He took her hand and slipped it onto her ring finger. The platinum flexed against her skin forming into a perfect fit. His black eyes gleamed, a hint of devilment that caught her breath and pulsed a pleasurable ache between her thighs. "To _enhancing_ fertility…"

Hermione watched the clear green stone –shaped glass from the heart of a volcano— flash in the firelight. The magic of it was there, a subtle flow of it, slow and rich, an almost intoxicating weave through her flesh… She gave her wizard a sly grin. "Are you being…lewd, Headmaster?"

Severus plucked her mug from her lax fingers and out it on the floor beside the chair. His warm hand found her thigh, caressing the blue silk of her dress, teasing it upwards, slowly, so slowly… "Would I do such a thing, Apprentice Granger?" He exposed her knee and still the dress crept upwards. "Especially to the woman who rescued me so successfully from the mauling touch of an unwanted witch."

"Should I claim my prize, then?" She nuzzled under his jaw, the lingering scent of his cologne, of the deliciousness of his skin wrapped around her. She licked and nipped his skin and he hissed, his fingers tightening against her now bared thigh. "What would you give your champion?"

A pulse jumped in her belly as his strong thumb pushed a line up the sensitive inner plane of her thigh. She twitched, rolling against his lap, her legs parting, wanting his sure touch _so_ much higher.

Her heart thudded and she fixed on that slow slide, tracking it, her breath short. Would he really…? Was he really going to touch her? _There_? And still the dress rose, the thick, heavy spiral of magic from the ring thudding through her own tight flesh. The slightest of strokes… That was all it would take and she would shatter—

"So beautiful," Severus murmured, dipping into the shadow of her thighs. "I promised you, I will never leave you wanting, yet we _will_ wait, Hermione."

The tip of his thumb was so close to her sex, teasing shapes against the smooth skin of her thigh. She clung to him. Hardly breathing. Seeing his large hand wrapped so deliciously around her thigh. She ached for him to push on, to push under, to push _in_. To chase the fiery ache scorching her flesh and _gods_ , make her come.

"Merlin, you are temptation, itself." Severus shifted against her and the hard line of his own need pushed against her backside. "I would bury my face in your sweet cunt, then lick and bite and suckle. Would you want that, Hermione? To see me? _Hear_ me?"

His dark words caught her, spun her thoughts, tight and thick. And she could imagine him, the black silk of his hair against her skin, his skilled tongue, that nose, _fuck,_ what would he could do—

His clever fingers danced across her sex. A fleeting touch. Sure…but wild and right. So right. And Hermione's world erupted, a cry breaking from her, her spine a bow, her wildly twitching legs caught by Severus' strong hand. Gods. _Gods_. The wild, golden fire ripped through her flesh in a brilliant, consuming moment of bliss.

Severus' soft, warm laughter brought her back to herself and he pressed a kiss to her damp forehead

"Happy Christmas, Hermione."

She buried her hot face against his neck, her flesh still thick with the echoes of her release. A laugh escaped her. "Yes, yes, gods, Severus. Yes, it is." Her breath came out on a long sigh and she sagged against him. "And here's to many more."

* * *

I wasn't expecting them to go there... Oops?


	14. Chapter 14

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And we have a smidge of Drarry...

* * *

Hermione rubbed her gloved hands together and stamped her feet as she waited in the arched doorway of the Hall. Her breath steamed around her, thickening as she huffed out her annoyance.

Where was Harry? She'd sent Tomes off a full hour ago with the message that Draco had dropped in unexpectedly. If he wasn't quick, he'd miss his obsession completely. And there was no telling when they could convince Draco to return. Though Severus was with her in their match-making efforts.

Anything to focus their surges of uncontrolled testosterone.

_Severus' words_. A smile tugged at her mouth. She did so like the acid edge that her wizard simply couldn't suppress.

And somehow her mother had launched herself into the mix. It was scary how Gwendolyn Granger could scent out a match-making scheme.

The sharp snap of apparition had Hermione's booted feet striding across the frost-free flags of the courtyard. Harry stood there, his face pinked, his hair wild and he gave her a cautious smile. He had on a new overcoat, neatly pressed trousers and his boots were clean.

Bless, he was trying to make an effort.

Hermione stretched out a hand to him, thankful for her concealing gloves. She didn't want him distracted by the bright ring on her left hand. Though this was Harry. There was a good chance he wouldn't notice…

She began to tug him towards the Hall. "Draco and Severus are taking in the mews cottages. Our half-way place for adult wizard-born."

"Hermione…" Harry's Adam's apple bobbed. He'd faced down Voldemort when he was barely a man, but the thought of approaching Draco had him running scared.

"Severus and I will leave you alone—"

" _Snape_ knows?"

Hermione frowned and his already pink cheeks flushed a deeper red. " _Professor_ Snape was charged with keeping a weary eye on both of you. He's _always_ known."

Harry groaned and caught his fingers in his hair. "Do you _have_ to sound so much like him, Hermione? It's too weird."

She snorted and tugged on his hand again. "Come on, Boy Wonder."

He slid her a dark look, but gave in to her pull. He frowned up at the front of the Hall, as if seeing it for the first time since he arrived. Which was probably true. "Wow, this place is…"

"Beautiful?" Hermione grinned at him. "It is. We have a subsidy from the Ministry, and eventually the wizard-born housed and working here will garnish their pay…but we still need funds to run it." Her eyes narrowed on him. "I expect a generous donation from you, Harry Potter."

"I'd stump up the money even if you weren't…" He waved his free hand.

"I know."

She linked her arm through his and wove her way through the manor house and out into the gardens that sat before the mews houses. The paths were clean and frost free —courtesy of the elves— though the air was a little _too_ bracing to enjoy the walk.

Hermione almost huffed a laugh. Kent was making her soft. The chill at Hogwarts when they returned would now strip the heat from her bones.

"How was Christmas at the Burrow?"

Harry shrugged, though a smile lifted his lips. "Jumpers galore. Ginny invited Luna and her dad. Mrs Weasley knitted Luna a jumper in the exact pinkish-purple of a crumple horned snorkack… She was _ecstatic_."

Hermione broke out into laughter. "I can imagine."

"Ron was saying…"

A line had formed on Harry's brow and she could just imagine what Ron had been saying. What had she ever seen in Ronald Bilius Weasley? He took churlishness to a new level.

She let out a long breath. Getting into this now simply wasn't the right time. "Harry…"

"He said that you fancy Snape." The words came out on a rush and his face was once again a brighter red. "That you had all these plans for a quidditch team of babies, but had thrown that over for—"

"Harry." She squeezed his arm. "Now is not the moment to get into Ron's ravings. You have a slytherin to run down." She lifted her eyebrows. "That is more important. Isn't it?"

He scrubbed a hand over his face. "I'm trying to think of anything _but_ that. Am I going to make a complete fool of myself? What if he _isn't_ interested? What if—"

"He is interested. He _is_."

She stopped at the wide archway that led into the courtyard of the first set of eight cottages. Severus had said he would drag Draco into the large cottage that straddled the archway. But Harry had taken his time…so whether both wizards still lingered there, she wasn't certain.

She stopped with the pretence of taking in the long stretch of the courtyard with its messy arrangement of evergreen shrubs and a lone, silver-barked beech. "There are twenty cottages altogether. So far. We'll see if we need to add more. The people who Severus brought in live up at the manor—"

"He's _interested_?"

Hermione bit back a smile. Had that single thought been churning and tumbling around in Harry's brain for the past five minutes? "Of course he is. Probably from the very beginning."

Harry stared at her. "From the…"

"Yes, Severus, this is all very interesting, but—" Draco had followed Severus out of a cottage with a bright green door and stopped. And was staring.

"Is my mother in there?" Hermione jabbed a thumb to the cottage behind her, the place of their original rendezvous. "I promised Harry some of Pil's flaming strawberry cupcakes."

"Yes." Severus strode towards her and she had to resist the urge to meet him halfway with a kiss. Because kissing him was simply lovely. Every single time. "Hermione, would you escort Draco? I have an appointment at Hogwarts."

She grinned. Severus didn't want to witness hormonal soup, another one of his sharp phrases. She put out her arm for Draco. "Come on, Pil's cakes are not to be missed."

Draco's gaze slid to Harry. Something shifted there, too quick to catch before his eyes became a pale grey wall. "I can do without cake."

Harry stiffened beside her and she could almost feel his heart contract. It would be easier to simply portkey the pair of them into a locked room and let them fight it out until they saw sense.

"No one can do without cake, Draco." She stretched out her arm. "You can have the one with extra buttercream."

He blinked, his pale cheeks suddenly glowing.

Hermione grinned at him. "As if I haven't seen you at every feast for seven years. I _know_ you snaffle all the buttercream you can get your hands on."

Draco's gaze moved to the silent Harry again. Severus put a hand to his spine and shoved him forward. "Eat, Draco." His dark eyes narrowed for a moment. Had Severus finally let his godson know of _Harry's_ interest? Merlin, what more did they have to do to get these two together?

She unlinked her arm from Harry's and pushed him towards the yellow door of the cottage. In three long strides, she had Draco in hand and was pulling him after her. She caught Severus' sly smirk and rolled her eyes. No doubt he would call her a crude Gryffindor…though his shove had hardly been _subtle_.

"There you are!"

Now her mother was involved neither wizard had _any_ chance to escape.

"Harry? My, don't you look the smart young wizard today." And Gwendolyn half-hauled him into the lobby. Yes, Hermione was certain she got every ounce of subtlety from her mother.

"Draco, Hermione." Severus' lips twitched —evil wizard— and then he strode out of the courtyard without a backwards glance.

Draco pulled her up short. "You set this up between you, didn't you?" His words was little more than a fierce hiss. "Setting me up to be humiliated—"

"Go in there and kiss him. And see how _humiliated_ you find yourself." Hermione pursed her lips and gave him her best McGonagall stare, watching him gulp.

"He really…?"

Draco suddenly looked as unsure, nervous, _vulnerable_ as Harry had and Hermione took pity on him. "Yes, he _really_." She pulled him towards the still open cottage door. "Harry is just as terrified as you. And if you feel yourself about to say something cutting —and before I hex you into a stain on the floor for hurting my friend— kiss him instead."

"I can't simply—"

"Yes, you can."

And then they were through the door into the long lobby. Her mother was already scuttling about the living room, pulling off Harry's overcoat and revealing a quite smart suit. Hermione thanked Merlin he'd made an effort. A Weasley Christmas jumper would've had the skittish Draco out of the front door again.

"Hermione help me with the cakes."

She found herself yanked away from Draco, into the little kitchen and the door shut behind them. Gwendolyn put her finger to her lips and pressed a knob on the low oven. Hermione blinked as the tiled wall above it cleared and became transparent. The warmth of elf-magic skittered across her skin. It seemed even Pil was in on this too.

Hermione dropped her cloak over a breakfast chair and pulled off her gloves as the warm room attacked her with its heat. How long would this take? And would there be anything left of the cottage at the end of Harry and Draco's first date?

Draco shrugged off his cloak with a smooth elegance and laid it over a nearby chair. He stood at the French windows that looked back to the Manor, his hands loosely locked behind his back. A slim, elegant silhouette in a soft grey designer suit. He really was quite pretty, though Hermione much preferred Severus' dark power…

"It's a worthy scheme." Draco's hands flexed. "Not that a Malfoy would ever need a place like this."

Harry huffed a breath, a red line topping his cheeks. He stood, his shoulders hard and straight. Hermione's belly tightened. It was going to be wands drawn, or Draco would take her advice and kiss Harry senseless. Still…her wand slipped into her palm.

"How can you say it's worthy, then deride it?"

Draco shook his head. "Are your ears clogged with –what are the insane creatures Lovegood bangs on about?— nargles?" He lifted a pale, aristocratic eyebrow. "I said there are no squibs in my family tree, Potter."

"Wizard-born."

"What?"

"Hermione uses the term 'wizard-born'. It comes from the house-elves."

"Of course it does." A sneer pulled at his lip. "Granger and her _elves_."

Harry's mouth had thinned and the red was now mottled across his cheeks. It matched Hermione's own heated face. Her mother laid a calming hand on her wand arm. Malfoy truly couldn't help himself. Goading Harry was just too entrenched in their relationship.

"Take that back, Malfoy." It was a low growl. Tight and fierce.

Draco's smile was sly. "Where was the insult?" He gave a loose shrug. "It was simply an…observation."

In a move too quick for the eye, Harry shoved the taller wizard up against the window frame, his wand at his throat. "I said—"

Draco kissed him. Hard. Deep. His fingers in Harry's wild hair. Harry's wand clattered to the wooden floor and his own fingers were busy, in Draco's pale hair and a proprietary hand on Draco's rather tight arse.

Hermione's breath caught, her hand pressing to her chest. Her heart thudded. Her friend kissing his life long enemy shouldn't be hot. It wasn't hot. It wasn't—

Harry grunted as Draco slammed him into the nearest bare stretch of wall —and continued to attack Harry's mouth. Nipping. Biting. The hissing and soft moans…

No, most definitely _not_ hot.

Harry shoved Draco back, the slytherin frowning in confusion. "We should…stop." Harry ran shaking fingers through his mussed hair and looked to the kitchen. "Don't you think?"

"She knows."

"You _know_ she knows?"

Draco laughed, something bright and free and Harry was staring at him as if it were Christmas all over again. Hermione bit her lip and her eyes blurred with tears. He looked so incredibly happy it was a joy to witness.

Harry accio'd his wand and stared at Draco. There was a burn to his green eyes. A need. A want. "So…my place?"

Draco's grin was wicked. Merlin, they'd be lucky if either wizard surfaced for the start of term. A moment later, the crack of disapparation snapped through the cottage and both wizards vanished.

Gwendolyn laughed and clapped her hands. "Right then, do you have anymore friends to tie together?" She grabbed Hermione's hand, pressing her betrothal ring against her palm. Gwendolyn smirked. "I think, my lovely girl, that we are on a roll!"

* * *

Let me know what you think! :)


	15. Chapter 15

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I've not written anything on _anything_ for weeks! So to force my way back into this writing thing, I have a little bit of Offer. Hopefully, this means the return of my mojo... *everything crossed*

* * *

"You know, he's an early Rochester," Gwendolyn frowned and tapped her finger to her mouth her gaze fixed on Severus as he stood alone in the shadows of the long window, "possibly a Max de Winter…though, _thankfully_ , without all of those missing appendages."

Hermione was certain her face was scarlet. "Mum _…_ "

Gwendolyn hummed to herself. "Though that's last year's film, not the book. Especially for Maxim's missing—"

" _Mum!_ "

Her mother grinned, completely unrepentant and took another sip of her gin and 'just a splash' of tonic.

Pil and the other Granger elves were, apparently, working their way through muggle alcoholic concoctions. And as it was New Year's Eve, her mother was doing everything she could to help them out.

It was only a small celebration in the softly-lit long garden room, still wreathed with Christmas decorations. Just her family and three of the wizard-born working at the Hall. The others were on duty, ready for feeds and disturbed nights. Music played softly and Hermione sipped at her wine, glaring at her mother.

Gwendolyn shrugged and peered into her disappearing gin. "I mean, he's not _conventionally_ handsome, but I can see the attraction. _Your_ attraction. The way your father _can't_."

Yes, her Dad was still frowning at Severus from across the room, his hand gripping his sparkling water so firmly that his knuckles showed white. The fact that his daughter had followed her mother's example in hitching herself fast to an older man was not sitting well with him. Which was hypocritical. But her mother had promised to…work on him. Poor man.

"Your Severus is clever. Brilliant, in fact. There's a palpable aura of power to him. And then there's his voice." Her head tilted and her mouth pursed. "And, as I've mentioned before, his _rather_ fine arse."

Hermione groaned. "Can you not drool on my betrothed, Mother?"

Gwendolyn snorted. "I am happy for you, my lovely girl. He's worthy of you."

She shook her head and sighed. "It's living here, isn't it? You're coming over all Jane Austen."

Her mother raised her glass. "That I am." She let out her own a long sigh, but a smile lifted her mouth as her gaze flitted around the candlelit room. "Have I mentioned how happy we are, Hermione? Here, with a horde of ran…rambunctious little children?"

With her cheeks pinked and her eyes shining, Gwendolyn was well on her way to being decidedly tipsy.

"Once or twice."

"And Hope and Joshua. So _sweet_."

Gwendolyn waved her glass. The remains of her drink sloshed. In the golden light, gin and tonic and a fresh slice of lime bubbled to near the rim. Hermione's mouth thinned. _House elves_.

"Have I mentioned how sweet they are together? Hope babbles at him the minute she lays eyes on him. Smiles at him a mile wide. Severus, I think, has a rival!" Gwendolyn peered into her full glass, frowned and took a generous mouthful. She wagged a finger. "And, speaking of them, did I mention that your father and I were thinking about applying for—"

The clock on the mantle chimed, marking the quarter hour.

"Oh, almost midnight!" Gwendolyn swayed in close, smirking. "And we all know what _that_ means…"

Before she could say more, Hermione hustled her leering mother across the room to her dad, rolled her eyes, and scurried away to Severus standing at the darkened window. Her heart gave a little flip. Yes, she new exactly what it meant and Hermione didn't need her mother's unsubtle urging to follow it through.

Severus glanced down at her, an eyebrow lifting. "I did doubt your mother would see in the New Year. Pil has kept her well-stocked this evening."

"Yes… I think words should be had with him."

Severus drew a wild curl away from her face and Hermione couldn't stop her smile. Such little signs of affection still caught her breath. A moment of illicit tension, then the fact that it was allowed, _expected_ would roll over her and bloom heat in her chest.

"It's quiet here."

His long, warm fingers stroked the length of her jaw and Hermione turned into his touch, almost mewling.

"Your friends…"

Her eyes fluttered open to stare up at him. Candlelight glowed over his pale skin, his black hair a smooth and inky shine. His eyes… Endless. Why would she be anywhere else, when she could be with him? There would be other years, other parties, but seeing in the New Year together, as something _official_ … That meant more than a screeching, thumping night in a club somewhere off Knockturn Alley.

"I'm a proper bookworm, Severus. I dislike clubs, and sweaty crowds, and shrieking to be heard." She turned her head to kiss his palm, a quick brush of her lips that shone heat in his black eyes. "I would much rather be here. With my family. With _you_."

"Hermione…"

Her name was a whisper broken as Gwendolyn began the countdown, the others joining in with her loud chant. But Hermione and Severus stayed silent. Her heart was thudding. She'd kissed him a number of times, though to her annoyance, they'd yet to have a repeat of early Christmas morning. And she'd _yet_ to get her hands on him to return the pleasure… But this moment. This little pocket of time. _This_ was their beginning.

Her mouth parted and his dark gaze flicked there, hot and fierce. And her mother might not find him conventionally handsome, but in that very second, as the chimes stroked midnight, be was _utterly_ beautiful.

"My Severus…"

It was little more than a murmur, as she stretched up to meet his dipping mouth, the first brush of his lips to hers warm and wanted. Her eyes closed and her free hand slid up the hard plane of his chest, over smooth cashmere to find the heat of his skin and the cool silk of his hair.

Another brush and her tongue teased over the seam of his lips. Quick and playful.

" _Naughty_ girl."

The low rumble of his delicious voice caught her flesh and her pulse jumped. A soft little gasp escaped her. "Shouldn't I kiss my husband-to-be?" She gave him a cheeky little smirk. "I _like_ kissing you."

Severus' dark eyes shone with want and her body tightened with a sudden rush of need. The desire that flared between them was something fierce. Unexpected in some ways. But always, _always_ wanted.

His kiss was a feather-light tease. "And I, soon-to-be-wife, _ache_ to pull you from this room and into a secluded alcove. To slide a hand over your thigh," his mouth brushed her parted lips as slow fingers drew a line down over her hip, "to fist this delicious silk, to chase biting kisses over warm skin, up, up, until I find your dark heat. To tease and lick and kiss…"

Hermione's thoughts were melting away. There was only heat and the wild beating thud of her pulse—

"Put him down and take these." Her mother surged up with two saucers of champagne. "Happy New Year!"

Severus watched her over his glass, his eyes hot and wicked. _And_ he was smirking at her. All too aware that the throb low in her belly was thick and heavy. _Evil man_. He was _completely_ evil.

Merlin and all his little demons, really, truly, _how_ was she going to last another six months?

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Let me know what you think! :)


	16. Chapter 16

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Thanks with all the help on  _A Sprinkle of Latin_. It's still percolating...so here's something more on this fic. I know. I'm contrary.

* * *

Hermione stood outside the compartment door and took a deep, steadying breath.

The rich scent of chocolate lingered in the air as the sweet trolley rattled off down the carriage. Around her the chug and huff of the train, its familiar rock, the groans and shrieks and laughter of children took her back to her first rides aboard the Hogwarts Express. Before their world turned dark…

She was twisting and turning her betrothal ring on her finger…and she was dawdling. Harry, Ginny and Luna were inside and she had to face them. Screwing down her courage, she slid back the compartment door and worked a smile across her mouth.

"Hermione!" Ginny grinned at her and bounced up from her seat. "How come you're travelling with us lowly students?"

A proper smile broke from Hermione. She flicked her right hand over her robes.

Septima had formally presented them to her the day before. Smooth and silky black, with the ancient Hogwarts' Apprentice crest stitched under her left shoulder. Septima's circular master's crest and that of the Guild of Arithmancers sat either side of it.

"One of an Apprentice's duties is to ride the train. So here I am."

She pulled the door shut behind her and cast a discreet muffling spell. With a twitch of a smile she sat and arranged the softness of her robes. They really were lovely—

A little gasp forced her gaze to Luna. The blonde girl, swimming in a startlingly purple Weasley jumper with a great  _L_  across its front, met her with shining blue eyes. Hermione gave her a quick smile.

Trust a Ravenclaw to see what two Gryffindors did not.

Oh, that one  _really_  sounded like Severus. The wizard was such a bad influence.

"How was New Year?" And yes, Hermione was delaying spilling her secret, but she had to work her way into it. She wanted her friends to be as happy with her choice, her decision as she was… She  _did_  seem to have Luna's favour. But how would Ginny and –Merlin preserve her—  _Harry_  react to her news?

"New Year?  _Someone_ …" Ginny's sharp brown gaze narrowed on Harry, "decided they had better plans than meeting us in the club. Someone who, when I floo-called to find out where the hell he was, was rather scandalously  _under_ dressed…"

Harry's cheeks pinked and he wiped a hand over his face.

"I saw your  _bare_   _arse_ , Harry Potter!"

"Merlin,  _Ginny_ …" It was little more than a groan.

Ginny sat back in her seat and crossed her legs. Her mouth pinched. She was channelling a scary mix of Minerva and her mother. "He won't spill, Hermione. You, as a new, shiny apprentice, should make him."

Hermione held up her hands. "I will do no such thing." Her fingers dropped and twitched at her robes, the words she needed stuck to her tongue.

"They are lovely robes, Hermione. My mother was an Apprentice at Beauxbatons and hers were very similar. Professor Flitwick said he's happy for me to wear them when I take up my Apprenticeship with him next year."

_Sweet Luna_. Giving her time to collect her nerve.

"Congratulations." Hermione grinned and eased her fingers free of the soft material. She had to share her future plans. "I have my own news." She drew circles over the platinum mount of her betrothal ring, the easing magic of the Gaia stone soothing her. "Well, more news."

" _Hermione_ …?" Ginny was staring at the fiercely green stone.

Harry frowned, looking from Luna, to Ginny to her. "What…?"

Hermione couldn't help the smile that broke from her. Poor clueless Harry.

"I accepted a betrothal just before Christmas. We plan to marry in the summer."

Harry's jaw dropped. "Are you and Ron back together…?"

"It's not Ron, Harry," Luna said softly.

He frowned. "Then who…" He blinked and what colour his embarrassment had flushed into his cheeks faded away. He got there faster then she expected…but then what other man shared any of her time? " _Snape_? You're  _marrying_  Snape?  _Severus_  Snape?"

Hermione glared at him. "No, Harry, his brother, Archibald."

" _What?_  Oh…" Harry's fingers drove through his messy hair. "I don't know what to say? Merlin, Hermione."

"I think the word you're looking for is congratulations, Harry." Ginny said, pulling Hermione into a hard hug. "You will be very happy with him."

Hermione pulled back to stare at her friend, surprised at her whispered words.

Ginny smirked. "I'm Luna's girlfriend. She sees  _everything_."

"Is this to do with what Ron said?"

Ginny rolled her eyes as she sat back down beside Luna. Hermione's lips thinned. Even with the truth known about Severus' true place within the war against Voldemort, Harry still held a reluctance about his role in her life. Even before her more…personal relationship smacked him in the face.

And Ron was his first wizarding friend. Harry had always supported him over her. Maybe it was a boy thing. She hoped one day he'd grow out of it…especially as she —and Severus, actually— had facilitated his bare-arsed New Year. Ungrateful git.

Hermione's lips were as pinched together as Ginny's. "And what did Ron say?"

Harry winced, an obvious realisation hitting him that it really hadn't anything to do with Ron Weasley. His face flushed a brighter red. "You're… So, it's not just…"

She arched an eyebrow at him. "I'm not simply using him for sex?" She paused, before a dark smile pulled at her mouth. "I will  _also_  use him for sex…in every way you can imagine."

Harry groaned into his hand. "Hermione,  _please_ …"

Ginny smirked and recrossed her legs, leaning into Harry's space. "I think you should tell him, Hermione. In  _vivid_  detail." Harry stared at her, horror flicking across his face. "Every kiss. Every lick. Every  _thrust_ —"

"Fuck's sake, Gin!"

Harry shrank back into his seat, scrambling to get away from her vision. Hermione was sure her face was quite pink, her pulse a riot. She still had  _months_  before those luscious images became her reality. Severus Snape was a wicked and tormenting man.

He'd left her in Kent, not an hour before, thoroughly kissed and with the dark promise to waylay her in some dark alcove in the very near future. His sinful voice wove through her, a delicious memory as his hand cupped her jaw, long fingers threaded through her wild curls.

_"_ _A dark passage, silent and still, and a certain Apprentice with her nose in a tome. Unaware. Easy pickings."_

_His lips brushed her ear, his breath warm, the rhythm of it igniting her pulse. The low ache between her thighs forced her to close her eyes. It wasn't even 8 o'clock in the morning. It was mortifying that everything about Severus Snape got her so ridiculously hot…_

_"_ _An arm to her waist and a hand to her mouth to stifle her scream and she's swept into the shadows. Caught. He has her now. His delicious witchling. Pressed into to cold stone, she can't see the wizard who took her, whose magic draws up those new silken robes, exposing her calves, her thighs and the sweet, sweet roundness into which he so desperately wants to sink his teeth."_

_Hermione blinked, the image of him behind her, kneeling, his face, his mouth —Merlin, save her— his..nose…_

_"_ _Ah, my witchling wants something…different." A large hand caressed her spine, easing her to the hard length of his body, the press of his infamous buttons a wanted bite into her breasts and belly. "The promise of a kiss. Of a lick and a taste."_

_Hermione groaned, her head falling to his shoulder. His scent, spices and cedar, and his heat wrapped around her as securely as his wicked words. "You're sending me off with…with soaked knickers!"_

_He huffed a laugh against her skin and she shivered, wriggling against him. His hand slipped over her backside and gave it a decided pinch. "I do —as always— aim to please—"_

"Then tell us your secret, Harry Potter, or I'll  _make_  her!"

Hermione startled back into the train compartment, broken out of her heated memory at Ginny's strident threat.

Harry shook his head "You are an evil woman, Ginny Weasley." His smile was crooked and he glanced at a hot-faced Hermione before he let out a long breath. "All right, it's pointless me keeping my going out with Draco Malfoy a secret any longer, isn't it?"

Ginny's shriek of joy and disbelief rattled the windows in their frames.

* * *

Lavender walked her fingers up Ron's arm, the tactic delaying him before he charged into the compartment occupied by his muffledly shrieking friends.

There was a betrothal ring on Hermione's finger. A Gaia stone. And Lavender knew what the gift of that stone meant to a woman. It was a promise of fertility…and Ron had banged on and on about Hermione's insane need for a fistful of brats.  _His words_. Always so pressured and angered, because his former-girlfriend's ache for a family had slashed through his plans. His very firm idea for  _his_  future.

Lavender could see Hermione was happy. She'd seen it at Grimmauld Place. It was their now in her shining eyes and pink cheeks. Lavender bore no grudge. Hermione was being decent. She hadn't led Ron on…and wished  _her_  the best with and for him.

So as a belated Christmas present,  _she_  would distract one Ronald Weasley. At least until they got back to Hogwarts.

Lavender pressed her head into his shoulder. "Do you realise…?" Her voice was low and soft, weaving the spell that worked so well on Ron…and little Ron. She grinned against his sleeve. "We're not twelve steps from that convenient little luggage room. The one with the smooth and so very sturdy waist high shelf."

Ron blinked down at her, the daze of lust there in his clear blue gaze.

"I  _must_  see if it's still as sturdy as it was before Christmas." Lavender eased past him, pressing her body in a slow,  _slow_  slide over his. She put a tempting sway into her hips, gave him a single look over her shoulder and sashayed down the corridor.

One...

Two...

…Three.

She smirked as Ron chased after her.

* * *

You know the most difficult thing about writing this? Writing Ron getting some... ;-)


	17. Chapter 17

* * *

Hermione was well aware that Ron was watching her. This was Ron. He wasn't exactly…subtle.

This hard, narrowed glaring had been going on for days and it itched under her skin…but, she didn't want to bring up their diverging futures. To have that talk. To confirm that she was betrothed —very happily— to the Headmaster. Both times they'd talked, it'd been horrible. And the first time. The first time he'd almost cost her Severus. So no. Not seeking him out.

At least her position as Septima's apprentice lifted her to eating at the High Table. That had spared her Ron's food-filled rant.

Hermione's thumb teased the underside of her ring, wanting the easy warmth of the Gaia stone to flow through her. Because there was an extra tightness in Ron's jaw as he sat at the Gryffindor table that night. He was working himself up to exploding…and she would not have Severus embarrassed by Ron's…infantile moods.

She pressed her lips together to deny a smile and toyed with the remains of her dessert. She really was channelling her soon-to-be-husband.

She flicked a glance to him, the candlelight gilding his pale skin and shining over his blue-black hair. Her heart squeezed —and tightened— as his quick, dark eyes found hers. A split second. Holding her. Making her pulse race. Fuck, how did he _do_ that…?

His lips quirked upwards — _wicked man_ — and then he slipped seamlessly back into his conversation with Minerva.

Hermione drew in a long breath and glanced back to the riot of the Gryffindor table. Lavender was frowning at her. _Shit_. That meant the volcano that was Ron was about to spew lava.

She twitched a smile. "If I may be excused, Master?"

Septima looked up from scribbling notes on an astronomical chart she shared with Aurora. Her Master waved ink-stained fingers. "Yes, yes, you're free for the night, my dear." And if that was a spark of devilment in her eye, Hermione ignored it.

Septima had been told of the betrothal as she was Hermione's Master. The rest of the staff were still in the dark, with the exception of Minerva. They'd agreed that it would be easier for Hermione to settle in to her role as Apprentice without the blaze of her relationship with the Headmaster clouding her position. To delay their betrothal announcement for a few weeks. At least. Though this was Hogwarts. Would they be that lucky?

Hermione stood and Severus flicked a glance at her, his dark eyes unreadable. But then there was a dart of a look to Ron. Severus was aware of how _he_ would deal with the news of their binding. And how one Ronald Bilius Weasley could completely balls up their plans.

Rita Skeeter was still on the prowl. And someone had slipped money to the Registry to backdate her Animagus status. Which meant the foul beetle was free of the threat Hermione could hold over her to ensure her cooperation. And Ron was often…loose-lipped when he was slighted. Eager to spread his version of how he'd been wounded or overlooked.

She slipped into the darkness of the staff entrance to the Great Hall and out onto the main corridor. Ron would've seen her leave. Alone. Dinner was over. So, if he packed away his snacks for later, added another cake, and an éclair, stood, took five chocolate biscuits…and finally pulled himself away from the table with a cauldron cake for the journey, he'd be through the doors…and now he'd be running, and there just off to the right—

"Mione!"

It was scary to be so accurate. But she'd had years of Ron —and his eating and hoarding habits— to back her up.

"I prefer Hermione."

He blinked at her, his face flushed as he staggered to a stop before her.

They were in a main corridor with peering portraits. And soon the Great Hall would empty of nosy children, children with access to quills, parchment and all too willing owls.

A few weeks. That was all she wanted. To settle in and announce their news, their way. She could already feel that luck slipping away.

She lifted her shoulders, straightening her spine. "If you want to talk, we should—"

" _Talk…?_ "

And suddenly Lavender was there and was manhandling Ron into a small classroom, with Hermione —after a quick glance around the empty corridor— hurrying after them. She shut the door and threw a heavy warding and silencing spell around the room.

Ron pulled himself free of his girlfriend and glared at her. Lavender lifted an eyebrow and met his hard look. "Do you want this news all over _The Prophet,_ Ron?"

He huffed. "Well they're _ashamed_. Keeping it secret—"

" _Private_ ," Hermione broke in, her lips pinching. "And I am _not_ ashamed. We've agreed that it would be easier for me to start my time as an Apprentice without the splash of my betrothal."

" _See?_ " Lavender flicked her manicured fingers. "It's what I, and Ginny and Luna and _Harry_ , have been trying to knock into your lunk of a head _for a week_."

"But _Snape_ , Mione?"

"Hermione," Lavender murmured.

Hermione lifted her chin. "We…suit."

"And so," he waved his hand, "you don't want your fistful of brats now? You wanted to fuck Snape, so your imaginary...horde was just a way to throw me over?"

Her eyes narrowed on him. What had she ever seen in him? When something did not go as he wanted…this was always, _always_ the reaction. She didn't envy Lavender her future if Ronald Weasley did not _grow up_.

"Severus wants a large family just as much as I do."

"What he wants is to stick his diseased dick in an uptight virgin cu—"

Ron yelped as Hermione slapped him. Hard. She glared at him and he cringed. The stink of metal was in the air and no doubt her cloud of hair was going for the full writhing Medusa. "I'm making the future I want. Go out and make yours."

She turned away and pulled in a steadying breath. And another. "You are my friend, Ron. And I thought, once, we would have a life, a future together. But what we want is too different. I have…moved on. You have the support of a brilliant witch." She twitched a smile at a solemn-faced Lavender. "And I have a wizard who will be the father of my children. Children he wants as much as me. Children he will love, unreservedly."

"Scarecrows."

Hermione shrugged. " _Our_ scarecrows."

Ron shook his head and caught his fingers in his hair. His face was mottled red, the imprint of her hand fierce on his cheek. A twinge of guilt pulled at her. But not much. Not much at all.

"Give us our time to announce this ourselves, Ron, please."

He scowled at her.

Lavender pressed her hand to his arm and he flinched. She seemed unmoved. "Or would you prefer to have _Severus Snape_ all too aware that you blabbed to _The Prophet?_ "

"Let me out of here. Now."

Hermione dropped her spells and Ron surged from the room. He slammed the door and the frame shook. The crash of wood boomed and echoed against the stone. Hermione sighed and fell back against an old desk. She scrubbed her face, letting out a long breath. She looked to the other witch and gave her a small smile. "I'm sorry if this is causing you trouble, Lavender."

Lavender shrugged. "He'll come around. He always does. And you?"

"Me?"

"Do you love the Headmaster, Hermione?"

She winced. That just sounded…wrong, didn't it? "Severus…is brilliant and kind and…and _sexual_." She blushed and pressed her lips together as Lavender laughed softly. "He makes me feel…" She shrugged. "Like no one else ever has. Yes," she looked up at her old roommate and her chest was tight and warm, "yes, I do love him. Very much."

"Good." Lavender patted her knotted fingers. "And he adores you. I saw those looks at the High Table, Apprentice Granger!" She smirked, her eyes dancing as Hermione's face grew furnace hot. "Have lots of fun making your babies. That's all I can say."

"And you? Ron…" Hermione could only shrug again. Ron was a lot of work, even for a dedicated witch like Lavender Brown.

"I love him. I always have. More fool me." She drew in a breath. "He has so much potential. If he'd only…"

"Get his head out of his arse?"

The witch snorted. "Oh yes. Now I will go and console my wizard." Her smile was sharp and wicked. "Angry sex. Yum."

And with a flick of a wave, she was gone from the classroom.

Hermione let out a sigh. She wanted nothing more than to crawl into Severus' lap and hide from the world for a few hours.

Her floo was connected to his rooms, so it was feasible…but he often had work to catch up on. He could hardly devote time to her because she was feeling… Delicate. Worn. Maybe grieving for the life she thought she would have, even as she wanted _everything_ in the life that had fallen to her.

Her thoughts swirling, Hermione left the classroom and began the trek to her room off a secret passage on the Serpentine Corridor. Severus had flicked the revealing spell over her himself, one given to all staff members to see the extra layers within the Castle. Often where their suites of rooms were hidden from prying eyes…and foul little pranks.

She stepped off the staircase, absently patting the newel post, and headed for her room. A wave of her wand over a rather unflattering tapestry of Adelard of Bath and the narrow, shadowed passage to her rooms revealed itself.

A hot bath and pulling out more research, until Severus let her know he was free. She hoped that was soon—

She shrieked as a large hand pressed to her mouth and she was pulled back against a tall, hard body. "No nose in a book, but you _are_ distracted, Apprentice Granger."

Severus low, silken voice threaded over the wild drumming of her heart and despite wanting to jab him with her elbow —hard— she melted back against him.

His hand had already slipped from her mouth and his fingers were busy drawing up the full skirt of her robes. A silent charm wrapped around her, lifting her up, pinning her up against his body.

Hermione's thoughts snapped back. "I could've hexed you!" But it came out on a hiss as his cool fingers played across the warmth of her exposed skin.

"It would've been worth it."

"Severus!"

He smirked against her ear, and his breath was hot and slow. It pricked at her skin and the familiar curl of want coiled ever tighter in her belly. He was fulfilling the little fantasy from days before. To trap a distracted apprentice and perform thoroughly wicked acts on her.

His long finger teased across her mons and Hermione sucked in a breath. Magic and his strong arms held her against him. "You are tense, my witch. I believe…"

Hermione mewled at the smooth and sinful darkness of his voice into her ear, the ghosting of his lips and his clever fingers inching closer to her aching sex.

"I can break that tension, if you desire it...?"

" _Yes_ …"

"Such an _easy_ little witch."

She growled at him, but that fell into a groan as he slipped a finger into her knickers, vanished them to Merlin-knew-where and slid a slow path, down, down…

Hermione sucked in a breath at the first light brush of her clit. The flare of hot pleasure. The desperate ache for more.

"Trust my magic to hold you. Wrap your calves around my thighs… Spread yourself for me, Hermione."

A shimmer of glass formed into an oval before her, the low light gleaming over a mirror-like surface…to reveal her, curled across his front like a…a _wanton_ , with his pale fingers plucking between her wide-parted and bared thighs.

The heat, the desire, in his glittering back eyes caught her breath, raged her pulse. To be so…wanted— Oh…oh, fuck…

"That's it, my witch. Chase the fire in your flesh. Come. Come for me, deliciously _naughty_ girl."

His voice, his dark velvet voice flowing over her and his fingers—

Oh, shit, fuck… _yes_ … There. _There_. Hermione arched against him. Hard. Against the sweet burn of his magic and the power of his arms. Fuck... _Fuck_. A grasping cry escaped her. Her body shook and the white fire of her release surged and still his wicked, wicked fingers…

"Another. Give me another, Hermione. Fuck, you're beautiful when you come."

And his words spiralled, catching the dip and stroke of his relentless fingers...and…and she obeyed, a deeper, fiercer orgasm careening after the first, until she was a limp rag, held up only by him. Gods... That was... She laughed and sighed and twitched, her words lost.

Merlin, she could just sleep…for a week. He'd have to pour her into her room, as there wasn't a bone left in her body. She wet her lips, her mouth parched. "Wicked…you are so very _wicked_ , Severus Snape."

He met her gaze in the soft shimmer of the magicked mirror. "Of course I am."

Hermione let out a long sigh and felt the curl of his spell ease away. Her feet touched the stone floor, her apprentice robes falling into place and her heart slowed, the wild rush of her release little more than sparks in her sated flesh. She wobbled back against him, wanting his strength, his heat, everything about him. She smiled at him as the mirror faded. "Thank you."

"I promised I would never leave you wanting."

A hand eased over the front of his trousers to the fiercely hard line of his erection. "And you, Severus?"

He hissed and moved her curious fingers away, much to her disappointment. "We shall see." He nuzzled her neck. "Now, bathe, relax, I will join you later."

The loose pleasure in her flesh was a relief. "Honestly, thank you, Severus." She turned, stretched up onto her toes and pressed a light kiss to his lips. Her fingers stroked the smoothness of his cheek. "I needed you."

His dark eyes warmed, until the familiar crease formed on his brow. "Will Ronald Weasley stay silent?"

"Who knows? Lavender will certainly keep him," she frowned, chasing away the unwanted images, " _busy_."

"I would rather not know."

Hermione huffed a laugh and pressed herself against him, breathing him in. Her wizard. _Hers_. Reluctantly, she drew back, her fingers weaving a final tease between his infamous buttons. "The quiet —possibly— before the detonation." She smirked up at him. "Not that I've changed my mind. Not for a second. You, me and our impending tribe. Always."

Severus gave her a silent nod and a brush of a warm kiss. "Until later, little witch."

And in a swirl of black robes, he vanished into the shadows.

Hermione caught her fingers in her hair and grinned, the glow still warm around her. No, no one else would ever her feel quite like _that_.

* * *

Ron added his signature in a slash to the hastily written note to _The_ _Prophet_.

He called an owl, a bland little brown bird hopping onto the quickly opened window. Securing the parchment, he stroked the owl and it stabbed at the missed chunk of cauldron cake caught on his sleeve. Little shit. He shooed it out of his room and it left with an indignant hoot.

Ron collapsed back into his chair. He glanced back to his bed, Lavender's hair a long trail in the low light. Her soft, sleep-filled breathing was the only sound in the room. She'd wanted him to leave it alone, but he couldn't. Not for her. Not for anyone.

She didn't understand. Everything had been set. _Everything_. His perfect life. The one he'd clung to through the time in that fucking tent and after, through fear and pain. It was his reward. But no, Mione ripped it all away with her insane urge to copy his mother, _of all people_.

Well, if _Hermione_ was so happy with her brat-filled future…then, why _shouldn't_ the wizarding world know it?


	18. Chapter 18

* * *

_Scandal at Hogwarts!_

_Plain but ambitious girl, Hermione Granger, has sunk her claws into yet another wizard._

_Not satisfied with Bulgarian bon-bon, Viktor Krum, nor the Saviour of the Wizarding World, Harry Potter,_ nor _even the War Hero, Ronald Weasley, she has now snagged her greatest prize._

_The Headmaster of Hogwarts, the Dark and Broken Prince himself, Severus Snape._

_And she has him in a full bind._

_Yes, my dear readers, Hermione Granger is betrothed. The record has been filed. Rumour has it, it is a bind through…necessity._

_Most shocking of all, will Hogwarts soon hear the scandalous patter of tiny feet?_

Hermione stared at the evening edition of _The Prophet_ , her fingers tightening over the pages, crushing them as her knuckles whitened. She closed her eyes. And breathed. Just breathed.

What an utter _bastard_ Ronald Weasley was.

The Great Hall was silent. Completely silent. There was only the panicked drum of her heartbeat in her ears. She couldn't look at anyone. Gods, they would believe her pregnant. Damn Ron for turning something she ached for, something she was looking forward to with such hope into something others would now sneer at.

Utter, _utter_ git.

The scrape of Severus' heavy chair against wood echoed around the room.

"There is no scandal. And I have no shame in declaring that I am betrothed to Hermione Granger."

Severus' smooth, calm voice eased the panicked thud of her heart and she looked to him along the long High Table, ignoring the mutters from pupils and staff alike.

Candlelight limned his stark features and his black hair shone. The aura of power shrouding his tall, straight frame made her proud. Her throat dried, the familiar pulse of want and of joy and of…love there in her flesh.

He as hers. Hers alone…and had told _everyone_ that fact. He truly was…magnificent.

Dark eyes found her, the drop of gold in their endless depths mesmerising. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards, before he looked back to the stunned faces of the assembled pupils, who'd no idea their evening meal would be quite so…momentous.

"Now, if you have all finished gaping like codfish, your food is going cold."

There was a wave of murmurs and the rustle of paper exchanged for the tink and clang of plates and cutlery.

"Oh, and if the War Hero, Ronald Weasley would be so good as to grace me with his august presence in my office, I would be much obliged."

Hundreds of pairs of eyes swung to Ron and his face was a severely mottled red. Ron jerked a nod, not looking up to the High Table.

Had he _really_ thought that _Severus Snape_ would not call him out on his idiocy?

* * *

"Mr Weasley."

Severus sat back into his chair and steepled his fingers against his mouth. The foul little tick that was the current bane in his life stood at the open doorway to his office, his back straight, but appearing as if a rod was jammed up his backside to keep it that way.

Had he not considered the consequences of his actions?

This was Ronald Weasley.

Of course he hadn't.

"Can you offer any excuse? Hermione —as well as many of your other…friends— asked you to stay silent. To give her a chance to settle into her new role as apprentice, before we announced our plan to wed—"

"It's disgusting! You're old enough to be her…her _father_."

A wave of Severus' hand shut the door and Weasley jerked forward.

"And she's just using you, you know. She wants kids. Anyway she can get them. Even through someone like _you_."

Weasley's lip curled and his gaze slid over Severus with open derision.

Severus remained impassive…and ignored the dark pull to his heart. As if he wasn't aware that Hermione was using him. He'd heard her declare that this foul…boy was her _one_. _The one._ But he would not give her children. And so…she moved on.

And he, well, his battered heart was fixed tight to her…and if she would have him. If she…desired him. Lusted after him. Welcomed his touch and his company. It was…enough.

As he'd told Minerva. He could love enough for both of them.

"Come with me, Mr Weasley."

Severus rose, enjoying the flinch of the boy, the jerk of his hand to his wand…and the fear to grasp it.

He led the way down a narrow twist of shadowed steps behind his chair and pushed open a little-used door. Soft, blue light filled the small room, resembling the glow of a pensieve. It poured out from a tall, silver-framed mirror fixed to the wall. The air was icy cold and their breaths steamed white, crystals forming on the walls as Severus closed over the door with a quiet click.

"It looks like—"

"It is not the Mirror of Erised." Severus' mouth curled into a sneer as Weasley scowled at him. "This is the Mirror of Delos. It shows…the future. Possible futures. Every outcome for every single permutation—"

" _A strategy mirror._ "

Severus frowned at him. Yes, he would add extra wards to this room when they were done. There was a covetous gleam in Weasley's eyes. Albus held the same look when he'd revealed the nature of the Mirror of Delos. Want…and fear.

"It shows only possibilities. _Never_ the way the future will fall."

And in that way, it was more dangerous than the Mirror of Erised. To show what could be…but Severus was aware that to see it in this mirror meant it would not fall true in real world. It was better not to chase the phantoms in this mirror. Ever.

Because what the mirror showed, the mirror took.

But he did not stress that fact to Weasley. He'd hurt Hermione. _His_ Hermione. And he would happily watch the boy deny himself the future he so craved.

If that made him wicked, Severus truly didn't care.

"Ask for the future you wish to see." He lifted an eyebrow. "Unlike the Mirror of Erised, all observers see the petitioner's view."

Weasley slid him a dark look.

_Yes, ask, idiot boy. Fix your failure._

"Show me my future with Hermione Granger as my wife. No children. Just us. My… _our_ brilliant life."

The wide mirror swirled with pale blue smoke, chasing and wreathing over itself, until it cleared and Hermione stood in white before an officiating Minerva.

A fist tightened around Severus' heart. It was summer. A wild rush of flowers filled a sunlit meadow. The Burrow was a shadow in the background and people stood around in their best clothes, her friends, her family —though her mother had a thinned-mouth expression and her father had a calming hand on Gwendolyn's shoulder.

Weasley grinned at himself in the mirror as he stood opposite Hermione.

She was smiling…but, couldn't Weasley see the tension in her face? The shadow in her eyes?

"See?" Weasley rubbed his hands together, his breath a white cloud. " _This_ is how it should be. What should happen. This is my _proper_ future."

Severus said nothing as the image swirled again and a splash of events rolled over each other. Hermione accepting her Mastery from the Guild of Arithmancers, with a tightness, a coldness to her face that squeezed Severus heart. His sweet and open little witch had already changed, been changed by the demand from Weasley that she remain childless. And Weasley was there, off to the side, well-dressed, groomed…and smug.

It flowed into images of distant places. Xian. Tokyo. Buenos Aires. With them together…but increasingly separate. And with every image of Hermione her face hardened into a mask. She smiled and laughed, but her eyes, there was an ever deepening shadow—

"Oh this. I will have _this_."

Had Albus stood before this mirror and declared the same thing? In that voice, thick with unthinking want?

And then Hermione and Weasley were older. Middle aged. The trappings of wealth, for which Weasley was so eager, surrounded him. Fine clothes. A well-appointed manor. A party filled the sumptuous rooms, bursting with influential people…and Hermione was at its centre…

Fuck…she was the Minister of Magic.

Something in Severus flickered at the idea that he was denying her that right, that power. She would be brilliant—

Her gaze swept across the mirror's surface and he sucked in a breath, his hands fisting at his sides. Who was she there? There was a fierceness in her eyes. Hard and certain. And cold, so very cold. And Weasley, there on the edge of her circle, his hand shaking as he knocked back a full tumbler of firewhiskey.

A refill bubbled to the rim of the glass and he drank again. Hermione's eyes narrowed on him. Her mouth pinched.

_"And you never wanted children, Minister?"_

A man's voice drifted from the mirror and Severus held his breath. Weasley was silent. Had he finally seen his future, drunken self?

_"Children..."_ Her smooth voice curled around the word and it was thick with derision. _"No…children would only... I am not the mothering sort. Not for…babies."_ Her mouth thinned a fraction and the pain in her eyes, the flicker pierced Severus' chest. _"And truly why would I need them when I have my darling Ronald?"_

The sneer to her voice was hard and cold and _unmistakeable_.

Laughter faded and the mirror's surface returned, to a blank pool of blue.

"No. _No_. That's not right. She'd adore me. I would be the centre of her world. Not…" Weasley flapped his hand at the mirror. " _That_."

"We are done here, Mr Weasley."

Severus wrapped a hand around Weasley's arm and hauled him from the room. The door slammed shut and the thick wards fell into place. "That would be your…illustrious future with Hermione Granger. The drunken husband, held in utter contempt by the Minister of Magic and her cronies."

"No… _No_."

"Mr Weasley…" Albus had decided to throw in his unwanted opinion. "The Mirror of Delos cannot lie."

"But…"

Weasley stared at the closed door, at Albus' portrait and finally to him. Had he never thought that Hermione would grow to hate him? What had he envisioned? That she would thank him for her life? Or that she would be happy with the trappings of wealth…and nothing more. Nothing deeper. And that power and pain wouldn't corrupt her. Completely

Severus lifted his shoulders. "Miss Brown is a witch willing to stand by you." He let out a long breath and narrowed his gaze on the paled wizard. "Well, she was. After you betrayed your…friend, perhaps she will no longer…put up with you."

"I don't understand. She had power and prestige, money and fame…but she wasn't, she wasn't _Mione_." Weasley frowned, his thoughts still turned inwards. "And…she _hated_ me. We…we hated each other."

Severus sighed. He did not want a night spent listening to Weasley's whining. He drew on this patronus—a fox since the previous summer—and sent it off to find Miss Brown. He prayed to Merlin that the witch still had the insanity to take on the rambling wizard.

"Sit, Weasley."

Severus conjured a chair and shoved the boy into it. And he sat, strangely silent now, staring at his flexing hands.

"It's the way of it. The price you pay." Albus murmured. There was an edge of sadness to his voice. "The Mirror does this. Cracks you open for a while. It takes a part of you, teases out a thread of your life. You must…readjust." He sighed and shook his head. "But this was needed, I think." With another sigh, Albus moved out of his frame.

A rapid series of knocks on the door followed and had Severus striding towards it to fling it open. Miss Brown stood there, her hair wild, her face pink. She offered a short smile to him and looked to Weasley. "Sir…?"

"I showed him the future he so desperately wanted. It did not turn out…well."

"No surprise there," Miss Brown murmured. "May I take him?"

Severus waved his hand towards the muttering wizard. "He is all yours, Miss Brown."

Weasley's head jerked up. "Lavender? Merlin, Lav, it was…she was… Don't be Minister of Magic, please. Promise?"

Miss Brown blinked, looked to Severus with a frown, before looking back to her addled boyfriend. "I promise, I won't."

Weasley beamed at her. "And don't let me drink, anymore? Not anything?" He lurched up. "I think butterbeer would be all right. Though really, it has beer in the name." He frowned at down at her as she looped his arm around her shoulders and half pulled him across the room. "Do you think it's, you know… _safe_?"

"I'm sure it's fine, Ron."

Severus stood at the open door, his hand ready to close it. "Thank you, Miss Brown. If he does not improve, have Poppy look at him. I believe he should be more…coherent soon."

"I'm sorry this was necessary, sir. We tried…" She shrugged and almost stumbled as Ron lurched forward. "Also, congratulations on your betrothal. You will be very happy."

Severus inclined his head, wanting to believe her. "Thank you, Miss Brown."

"Come on, Ron, let's get you somewhere comfy and quiet." The woman struggled onto the stairs with the raving wizard and his voice floated up.

"And I don't want to go to Tokyo. Or Xian. Or, Merlin forbid, Buenos Aires. Oh, I want a nice little house. Something small. Cosy. Not a manor. No manor for us, Lav…"

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose wondering whether Weasley would ever recover…and how much of a loss to wizardkind it would be if he didn't—

"Severus…?"

His heart squeezed at her soft voice and dark, worried eyes that stared up at him. " _Hermione..._ "

And he was moving and wrapping himself around his witch, pulling her close, his face in her hair, breathing her in, her familiar scents of vanilla and jasmine. His. She was his. And would always be…his.

Yes, no matter what, he had enough love for both of them.

* * *

Bit of an odd chapter this, but I had to put away Ron's interference. It wasn't in the original plan. *glares at a certain redhead*


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